


Umino Iruka and the Foreign Friends

by Leicontis



Series: Umino Iruka and the Will of Fire [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 72,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leicontis/pseuds/Leicontis
Summary: Book 4: Harry's had an ominous nightmare, somebody cast the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup...  There's no way this is going to be a quiet, peaceful year.  Oh, and now students from other schools are showing up for a tournament that was previously stopped due to the death toll.  Can't Iruka and his students catch a break for once?





	1. Roughing It

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Being neither British nor Japanese, it should therefore come as no surprise that I own neither Harry Potter nor Naruto, nor anything from their respective franchises.

In late August, Hedwig brought Iruka a letter from Harry. This was not unusual. The contents of this letter, on the other hand...

> _Iruka-sensei,_
> 
> _I just had a really weird dream, then woke up with my scar hurting. Since the dream was about Voldemort, I'm kind of worried it might be true, or some sort of hint that he's up to something. I can't remember everything that happened in the dream, but I'm putting everything I can here._
> 
> _It was in some big, old house, that looked like it belonged to someone really rich but they hadn't kept it up. An old man heard voices when there was supposed to be nobody there, and he followed them to a room where Voldemort was talking to somebody. I don't know who he was talking to, and I think the old man was a Muggle because he didn't pull out his wand and seemed confused about the stuff he was hearing. They talked about murdering someone, a woman I think, about getting at me somehow, and about wizards coming from all over the world, then a huge snake went by and told Voldemort about the old man listening. The other man in the room opened the door, the old man went inside, the other man turned around the chair Voldemort was sitting in and whatever he looked like, it scared the old man horribly, then there was a flash of green light and the old man died, and I woke up with my scar burning._
> 
> _Could you ask Professor Dumbledore about this for me? It might be nothing, but after what happened last time my scar started hurting I don't want to take chances._
> 
> _See you at the World Cup,_
> 
> _Harry_

"'It might be nothing' he says," Iruka shook his head, "about as much chance of that as of Naruto swearing off ramen."

Minutes later he sat in the Headmaster's office, while the man himself read through Harry's letter.

"This is most disturbing," Albus said gravely, "and you and Harry were quite right to bring the matter to my attention. I am reasonably certain that this dream was at least representative of actual events; it would seem that dark plots are afoot once more."

"It's not a lot to go on," Iruka commented. "Would your Pensieve allow us to pick up more details, possibly?"

The whiskered wizard shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Even with my long practice of Occlumency, I would have difficulty gathering a usable memory of a dream I recalled clearly. The ephemeral nature of dreams, coupled with how vague Harry's recollection already is, would make transferring it into a Pensieve quite impossible."

"So it's basically like two years ago," the chuunin stated, "with a vague warning of impending danger but nothing particularly actionable. We know that Voldemort has some kind of solid form again, another possession maybe, and that he's got a large snake with him and is being helped by another wizard. Am I missing anything?"

"They are targeting Harry again, from what he recalls of the conversation he overheard."

Iruka gave his boss a dry look. "That's hardly new."

Albus chuckled sadly. "Unfortunate, but true nonetheless. There is, however, one bit of information that is immediately actionable. I shall, immediately after this meeting, send Mr. Potter a message advising him to clear his mind and do his best to shore up such Occlumency defenses as he has developed each night before bed. With luck, that should enable him to block out such visions in the future, at least in part."

"While I'm all for reducing the number of bad dreams my students have, wouldn't that also mean missing out on potentially valuable intelligence?"

The Headmaster shook his head. "It might, possibly, but that presumes that the connection between the two wizards can only manifest itself as we have seen thus far. After all, if Harry can dream of events surrounding Voldemort, could not the reverse occur as well? Worse, Tom is a master of the Mind Arts, and it is not inconceivable that he might be able to discover the connection and exploit it, either by falsifying future visions, stealing information from Harry's memory, or even directly invading Harry's mind either to observe or to control. As much as I would desperately wish for more information, I fear that the risks in this case outweigh the potential rewards."

"Make sure you mention that to Harry in your letter," Iruka replied, "or at least that Voldemort could send false visions or snoop on Harry. Knowing Harry, if he heard that connection might be used to control his actions, he'd try to distance himself from his friends to keep them safe." He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "There's more you're not telling me."

Albus nodded somberly. "Severus has already informed me that his Dark Mark has begun to darken of late, becoming bolder and more visible. After Voldemort's defeat, it had faded to near-invisibility, but its gradual return suggests that its creator is regaining some measure of his former strength."

"That is... not good," the chuunin sighed. "I hate knowing an enemy's in motion without having any real clues about what they're up to. All we can really do is watch and prepare as best we can."

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Bright and early in the morning the day before the World Cup, Iruka Apparated over to Remus's cottage in Yorkshire. It was a small place, very isolated, and as with virtually everything else to do with the werewolf it looked like it had seen much better days: The faded paint was peeling in places, the roof mostly a patchwork of inexpert repairs, and the whole building seemed to be sagging and leaning. While magic meant it was probably more structurally sound than it looked, it was still probably barely fit for human habitation.

The former Defense Professor answered the door quickly; he looked a bit haggard, probably due to the early hour or to the full moon in a few days. Like Iruka, Remus was dressed in comfortable Muggle clothing. "Ah, Iruka, good morning. Come in, please. Would you like some tea before we head out?"

"No thank you, Remus - I'd rather not risk missing the Portkey." He also didn't want to use up some of what was probably a carefully-husbanded supply, given the werewolf's limited means. The cottage's interior was little better than outside, looking somewhat like Iruka thought the Burrow would if the Weasleys fell on hard times: What sparse furniture was present was battered and worn, the sink full of an assortment of chipped and mismatched dishware, and the cracked and warped wooden floors bare of any carpeting. A few items of better quality or in better condition stood out, though, like the small collection of books on a rickety shelf. Some pieces, like a stout kettle and cast-iron skillet by the stove, were of a more robust and utilitarian construction, while a set of framed photos added some much-needed color to the room.

"Be it ever so humble," Remus commented sardonically, noting Iruka's perusal. "I'll be ready to go in just a moment." A couple of quick summoning charms later and he was packing the last few things into a rucksack. That done, the two men stepped back out, Remus locking the door behind them.

Chatting companionably, they headed off for the location of the nearest Ministry Portkey. Despite the fairly brisk pace the two set, the remoteness of Remus's cottage meant that it was nearly an hour's walk before they reached the spot where several other witches and wizards were already starting to gather. All had at least attempted to dress Muggle, though to highly variable degrees of success. Both newcomers had to suppress their laughter at the middle-aged wizard wearing a plaid blazer over a tank-top paired with a lacy pink knee-length skirt and golf shoes.

Some of those assembled around an empty lager bottle seemed to recognize Remus, or at least that he was a werewolf: An elderly couple looked sadly at him with a mix of sympathy and pity, while a younger couple moved their two pre-Hogwarts-age children behind them, gazing at him in fear. One wizard dressed in a high-quality tuxedo of fairly archaic style simply glared at the ex-Professor with undisguised hatred.

All these looks Remus bore with the resignation of long experience and a wan smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was so much like a young Naruto that to see it on a man closer to Naruto's current age was heartbreaking, but Iruka knew there wasn't much he could do about it.

Of course 'not much' isn't the same as 'nothing' and so the chuunin turned to his friend and spoke: "Oh, I've been meaning to ask, have you been able to come up with any more advice on casting the Patronus Charm? You keep saying not to be discouraged, that it's a hard piece of magic and many adult witches and wizards can't manage it, but given the fact that you got _thirteen-year-olds_ casting it, well... I know a teacher's greatest pride is to be surpassed by their students, but it's still embarrassing to have teenagers outperforming me in magic."

"At this point, all you can really do is keep practicing," Remus replied, his eyes gaining a prankster's twinkle, "and we both know those kids are an exceptional group. Still, next time we're somewhere Muggles can't find we can go over your casting with a fine-toothed comb, maybe see if your wand movements could be refined further and make sure you're timing the incantation right."

The startled expressions on those people previously looking at Remus were immensely gratifying, as was the fact that four of the five shifted a bit towards thoughtful or respectful. Of course the hateful glare just came back fiercer than before, but some people are never happy.

As the time for their Portkey approached, everyone gathered into a tight knot, making sure they each were at least touching the bottle that would be serving as their Portkey. Remus had previously explained that all of the Portkeys used would be made from random pieces of garbage in order to avoid having some random Muggle walk off with them. For his part Iruka thought it was a bit strange, especially since it was entirely possible that a well-meaning passerby would pick up what they'd see as a piece of litter. Then again, both wizards and bureaucrats tended to be fairly weak in the logic department, so one couldn't really expect much from a combination of the two. Regardless, when the time came Iruka felt the characteristic yank-and-spin before landing easily at their destination.

"Nine o'clock from Shepherd's Brook?" asked a wizard wearing a T-shirt-and-waistcoat combination with blue jeans and loafers, "Let's have that Portkey, then. Come along, now, we've another group arriving from Donegal in a few minutes." The Ministry wizard soon directed each party towards their respective camping areas, and around a half mile's walk later Remus was handing money to Mr. Payne, the site manager.

Once they reached their assigned space in the currently half-empty field, Iruka pulled the tent off his backpack and the two men began to set it up by hand. Ordinarily he'd have kept it in a storage scroll, but given the Muggle nature of the campground open displays of magic were very much a no-no. The tent was borrowed from the Lovegoods, and simple enough to put up in a couple of minutes; alone it would have been annoying, but with two pairs of hands it was a breeze.

Walking inside, Iruka had to marvel once again at the wonders of magic. On the outside, it might have looked like an ordinary canvas cabin tent large enough for two or three people, inside it was practically a two-bedroom house complete with a compact but functional kitchen and, miraculous even for someone well-trained and experienced in 'roughing it', indoor plumbing. If reliable travel could ever be established between Britain and the Elemental Nations, most shinobi would kill (many of them literally) for tents like this.

"It'll still be a bit tight," Remus commented, "and we might end up setting a cot or two out in the kitchen, but it's only a couple of nights."

"Remus, just being in a tent _at all_ is already well ahead of most of my previous camping experience. By the standards of just about any non-magical, this campout is going to be downright luxurious." The chuunin smiled happily. "Besides, I don't think the kids have camped at all before, so this should just be a fun adventure for them." He deliberately did _not_ comment that it would also hopefully be safer than the 'adventures' Harry and the others had experienced.

Since it would be hours yet before the rest of their party would arrive, both of them busied themselves fetching water and building a campfire. That done, they set up a pair of camp chairs out in front of the tent and spent the time between reading, conversing, and watching with amusement and exasperation the mostly-inept attempts of their fellow witches and wizards to function without using magic for everything. Both had to fight to keep from laughing aloud as one wizard kept trying to use tent stakes like wands.

Around one-thirty that afternoon, Iruka headed over to the campground's car park, wondering how the Ministry was accounting for the near-total absence of parked vehicles given how packed things were rapidly getting. It was closer to two o'clock when the Grangers' car pulled in, swiftly disgorging its four occupants to stand and stretch after a long drive.

"So," the chuunin called as he approached, "how was the trip?"

"Not too bad," Wendell replied, heading for the back of the car to retrieve the family's bags, "a bit of traffic on occasion, but having people to chat with-"

"Or at," Monica interjected to an eye-roll from her husband.

"-makes the whole experience much less boring." He switched to a stage whisper. "Harry even got Hermione to look up from her book and participate!" The girl in question wrinkled her nose in mock indignation.

Iruka chuckled. "Well, I'm sure it's more comfortable than a Portkey, unless you're a big fan of violent spinning. Portkeys are much faster in theory, but you lose a lot of that when you have to walk an hour to get to the nearest one." This led into an explanation of the available methods of magical travel, though the group switched over to talking about more mundane topics when they neared Mr. Payne's cottage.

Remus was still seated outside the tent when they reached it, standing to greet them as they approached. "Harry, Hermione, always a pleasure; Mr. and Mrs. Granger, good to see you again; Professor Umino," he continued in the same tone with a gleam in his eye, "welcome to our camp."

Arrivals both new and old chuckled, though the foursome looked at the tent with some trepidation. Iruka winked at Remus before turning to them. "If you'll follow me, we can drop your things off and get you all situated. We still need to work out who's sleeping where at some point too, preferably before bedtime tonight." He and Remus both quickly slipped into the tent, stepping away from the entrance once inside to watch as the others entered. Remus even had the presence of mind to grab a wizarding camera that Sirius had paid for in order to see at least parts of his godson's trip to the World Cup.

The reactions didn't disappoint. Hermione was the first through the flap, and made it about two steps in before she registered what she was seeing and her brain shut down. Harry was next, and was so distracted that his usual agility failed him: He walked into the still-gawping Hermione, sending both to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Into this scene walked Hermione's parents, whose expressions kept swinging from awe at the tent's interior to amusement (Monica) or amused dismay (Wendell). It was at this point that the *click-POOF* of the camera was heard, a small cloud of purple smoke rolling up towards the canvas ceiling.

Once the two teachers had finished laughing at their students' expense, they moved forward to help the two up and apart, though the blushes on both teens' faces did nothing to dampen their amusement.

"Bloody Hell," Wendell muttered, gazing around, "if wizards can expand a little tent this much, why don't they all live in palaces?"

"A few different reasons," commented Remus, slipping easily into 'Professor-Mode', "starting with power requirements. Expanding a larger space takes more power, as does a greater degree of expansion. The less power required and the more power applied, the longer the expansion lasts - I could manage an expansion on this level for a few days at a time, but it would leave me quite tired. Softer materials like cloth are also easier to expand than more rigid ones like wood or stone - in essence, it's easier for the magic to 'stretch' them. I doubt many would be that keen to build their family homes out of canvas. I also wouldn't want to be inside an expanded room when its expansion charms suddenly failed. The only area I know of in Britain that's been expanded large-scale and long-term is Diagon Alley and its associated side-streets: Originally, they were actually just a handful of alleys, before a few witches and wizards set up stalls or carts to sell their wares. At some point, they wanted a bit more room and started enlarging the space available, then more people came, and it grew from there. Centuries of repeated castings of various expansion charms have effectively 'pre-stretched' them enough that they mostly hold their size and shape without needing the magics refreshed."

"Mostly?" queried Hermione.

"On occasion you'll find that the layout of the Alley seems to have shifted suddenly - this is usually because of either an old expansion fading, a new one being cast, or a faded one being re-cast. Also, every few years or so you'll hear about some building or another collapsing because the owner hadn't bothered keeping up its expansion spells, though that happens more often in Knockturn Alley and other areas where building change hands frequently or landlords tend to be lax about maintenance."

"But if repeated castings last longer," pressed Wendell, "why wouldn't those old families that have lived in one place for centuries have expanded homes?"

"Again, a mix of reasons," Remus replied, "starting with the difficulty and safety issues already mentioned. Expanding even a single room in a brick or stone house would take a great deal of effort and likely only last a few hours at first, which would be a _lot_ of work to maintain. Why bother spending literally generations repeatedly expanding the same rooms when you could spend a few days or weeks adding onto the building the conventional way? Beyond that, many of the older families either wouldn't need nor want a huge mansion, and of those that do the ones with money prefer homes that look impressive on the outside as well as the inside."

Harry gave a cough at this point that sounded suspiciously like "Malfoy".

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Between trips for water and other necessities and a general exploration of the increasingly-full campgrounds, Harry and Hermione discovered some familiar faces. The Diggory family, neighbors to the Lovegoods and Weasleys and whose son was the current Hufflepuff Seeker, had set their tent up less than twenty meters away. This of course led to Harry and Cedric discussing Quidditch at length, to Hermione's obvious (and amusing) frustration.

Speaking of the Weasleys, they too were present, if a bit more of a walk to reach. Apparently Arthur had done some kind of favor for the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, who had thanked him with tickets for the top box. The tent borrowed by the ginger patriarch was oddly decorated, some sort of knit covers on much of the furniture, with a pervasive smell of cats. Six of the seven Weasley children were as excited as Harry for the once-in-a-lifetime show; Percy seemed more enthused about the chance to rub elbows with top Ministry officials. Regardless, Wendell ended up having to patiently try to explain several basic Muggle concepts to an enthusiastic Arthur Weasley while the kids discussed their summers and all present speculated on the coming game.

Other than visiting, much of the group's time was spent on the aforementioned explorations of the campgrounds. Hermione and Harry both marveled at the variety of foreign magicals, and all six enjoyed the numerous and often garish decorations. More than one particularly outlandish tent or other setup had them shaking their heads, wondering if some people just hadn't gotten the message that this was a Muggle area and overt displays of magic were forbidden. Regardless, amusement was had, souvenirs were bought (including Omnioculars, magical binoculars with a variety of useful features such as record/replay and slow-motion), and large amounts of unhealthy food were consumed from stalls scattered amongst the tents. The trip had already been a lot of fun, and the main event was yet to come...

* * *

**Omake! More "Next year's Defense Professor" rumor**

From: Kairan1979  
Teacher: Bellatrix Lestrange, under an Unbreakable Vow not to hurt anybody  
Reason for Leaving: Asking to be returned to Azkaban because she prefers the Dementors as company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Harry remembered more than in canon. His Occlumency didn't keep the dream/vision out (in part because he didn't know to shield against it), but it did let him retain more than he otherwise would have. Also, he's completely leaving out that Hermione badgered him into writing the letter after noticing he was acting odd and dragged the story out of him. He didn't want to bring it up and worry people - he's not that different from canon.
> 
> I was originally going to have Iruka find out about Horcuxes and Harry's scar here, but realized that there's no way Dumbledore would part with such information so easily. It'll happen eventually, but only when the old control freak is really pushed.
> 
> There was no way for me to put this in the chapter proper (at least not without a bit of random and out-of-character dialogue) but most of the more expensive items Remus owns are gifts from James, Lily, Sirius, and others. The cast-iron skillet and a few other practical things are from Lily, knowing that she could spend more to get something that'd work well and last a long time without it looking so expensive that Remus would baulk. I also figure she'd be one of the more practically-minded of the group.
> 
> I've got to say that I feel fairly proud of the segment surrounding Harry and the Grangers' arrival at the campground. It was totally unplanned (and originally would have been just a couple of paragraphs saying that they'd arrived and settled in) but when I saw what the characters were doing I just had to record it.
> 
> Before those of you that are especially observant note that the covers in Perkins' tent were crocheted rather than knitted, I know that. Iruka doesn't.


	2. Rough Play

The stadium for the World Cup was, simply put, spectacular. It was staggering to realize that here, in one place, were gathered enough magic-users to outnumber the entire Alliance Army from the Fourth War. Beyond that, this was just a fraction of the millions that existed worldwide. Even just the hidden magical portion of this world's population was comparable to the total population known in Iruka's home world; the prospect of a total population in the _billions_ was still hard to truly wrap his mind around.

Other than the sheer scale of the stadium, there wasn't much novel to Iruka's experiences in the last few years. The long trek up the stairs to their box had left the other adults winded and the teens thankful for all the physical training they'd been doing in S.E.N., but the unobstructed high vantage point was likely to be very worth it come game time.

The Bulgarian team's mascots took the field, and Iruka felt a slight nosebleed start. They were a group of some of the most spectacularly beautiful women he had ever seen: Their long hair flowed behind them, unblemished skin almost luminous, every feature and proportion of their faces and bodies perfect. Then music began to play, and they started to _dance_...

" **Kai**!" Feeling something starting to affect his mind, the chuunin's automatic response was a genjutsu-release. Unlike the other times he'd tried such in this universe, it worked perfectly. Whatever effect these beings produced, it was either a genjutsu or so similar as made no difference. Looking around, he saw Hermione performing a release on Harry, whose eyes had gone somewhat glassy staring at the women on the field.

As her fellow teen tried to figure out what had just happened, Hermione turned to her father. Wendell was clearly also enthralled by the display. Monica had turned to him, but rather than outrage or jealousy her expression was predominantly one of concern.

Seeing the Granger party well in hand, Iruka checked on Remus, but the werewolf was clearly quite lucid. That's not to say that he wasn't enjoying the show, but presumably his greater experience with magic and magical creatures and beings was helping him resist the genjutsu.

From there Iruka glanced around at the stands, and saw the widespread effects: Everywhere he looked, boys and men (and some girls and women) were gazing down completely enraptured. Many of those so influenced were behaving oddly, making at least half-hearted attempts to garner the women's attention. Some, like the ones doing clumsy dances of their own, were amusing. Others were worrying; several fights had broken out, and more than one person seemed ready to leap over the railings and onto the pitch.

Whether because they recognized the growing risk to the spectators or because their allotted time was up, the Bulgarian mascots finished their little performance. The previously-enthralled crowd quickly became unsettled, with raucous demands for the show to continue (to the clear irritation of many wives and girlfriends).

"Well _that_ was... unsettling." Wendell Granger looked less than pleased, turning to Remus. "Is mind-influencing magic like that common? I much prefer to remain in control of my own thoughts and actions."

"There are mind-affecting spells, even a Ministry division dedicated to modifying Muggle memories to hide evidence of our world, but for the most part such magics are only used in very limited fashions. Those ladies down there are Veela, and that effect we felt is one of their natural defenses. But perhaps we should discuss it later," he said, pointing up to where the Irish mascots were making their appearance.

The airborne light show that followed was nice, Iruka supposed, but even after only a few years around magic it wasn't really all that impressive. He was even less impressed when the glowing shamrock began raining Galleons down onto the stands; gold coins that size, dropped from a height, would probably leave more than a few people with bruises at least.

"Don't bother gathering them up," commented Remus, "those were leprechauns. Leprechaun gold vanishes after a few hours."

"Tell that to _them_ ," Emma said angrily, waving out towards the stands where numerous fights were breaking out over the apparently-temporary gold. "Honestly, does neither team care about the safety of the spectators?"

"Given how dangerous their sport is," her daughter replied while glaring mildly at Harry, "safety is probably a bit of a foreign concept. I don't know whether it's how quickly magic can heal a lot of injuries or if it's something else, but it seems like a lot of witches and wizards don't really care much for their own well-being, and even less for that of other people."

Iruka could only shrug when the adult Grangers' questioning looks turned his way. "Considering my background, I'm not sure I'm really in a place to comment one way or the other."

With both of the teams' mascots finished their displays, the players themselves flew out over the pitch. Soon enough, the referee kicked open the crate of balls, starting the championship game of the Quidditch World Cup.

What followed was to the games Iruka had seen back at Hogwarts as a deathmatch between jounin was to a match in the Chuunin Exams. The action was more skillful, more precise, more brutal, more tenacious, and so much _faster_ that he had to wonder how civilians could even follow some of the plays. The Irish team's Chasers showed a polished teamwork that was beautiful to watch, something the Bulgarian Beaters began to focus on disrupting.

Suddenly, both Seekers turned into a power-dive, streaking towards the turf as fast as their top-of-the-line brooms could take them. Only Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, was able to pull up in time to avoid crashing, leaving his counterpart stunned on the ground he'd met so violently. "Apparently it's called a 'Wronski Feint'," Harry commented, looking through his Omnioculars, before smirking and adding, "something to remember next time Malfoy starts marking me."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione scolded, "You _can't_ be considering doing something so- so _dangerous_ just to get an edge in Quidditch?! It's just a _game_ for Merlin's sake!"

Harry scoffed. "I don't need an edge against _Malfoy_. I just figured next time he's annoying me during a game, insulting your heritage and my mum's, I should help him get a better understanding of mud - an up-close-and-personal look, a real _taste_ of mud you might say."

"That sounded so much like James _and_ Lily," Remus chuckled. Harry beamed in response.

Play resumed, and the Irish Chasers continued to dominate their opposition. As the Irish lead grew, so too did the desperation of the Bulgarian team, culminating in the game's first called foul as their Keeper violently elbowed an Irish Chaser. This in turn led both to the leprechauns taunting the Bulgarian team and its supporters and to the Veela enthralling the referee.

Once the mustachioed man was broken free of the entrancement, he was less than pleased. From his gestures, it seemed he wanted the Bulgarian mascots off the pitch. This drew the ire of the Beaters for that nation, who argued with him to the point of calling a second foul against their team.

After the _third_ foul by the Bulgarians in a matter of minutes, the leprechauns formed into a rather rude gesture aimed towards the Bulgarian end of the stadium. In response, the Veela seemed to undergo a transformation: Their once-beautiful faces elongated into cruel, scaly bird-like heads as scaly wings grew out from their shoulders, and they threw small handfuls of flame from their hands as they attacked the leprechauns. This in turn drew a horde of Ministry witches and wizards onto the pitch to attempt to quell the violence, but so far they'd only succeeded in adding to the chaos.

As all that went on down on the ground, play continued in the air above. In spite of taking a Bludger to the face, Krum managed to beat the Irish Seeker Lynch to the Snitch. He'd also managed to plough Lynch into the ground again, where he was promptly attacked by a group of angry Veela. This spectacular catch, however, was too little too late, and Ireland won the match without catching the Snitch. Iruka felt that catch was still Krum's best option left at the time, though - the difference in score would have only grown if the game had continued.

"Well, that was certainly spectacular," Wendell commented as they made their way back towards their tent.

"Spectacularly unprofessional, you mean," replied his wife.

"Failure can be just as much of a spectacle as success," he defended mock-haughtily, "why else would people be so fascinated with horrific disasters?"

"It was a mess all around," Iruka agreed. "Both teams' mascots provoked fights among the crowd before the game even began, and their behavior only got worse from there. If somebody acted like that during an event in Konoha, they'd be lucky if they only spent a night or two in a cell. When your work is as dangerous as ours can be, you don't tend to have much patience for people needlessly endangering others."

"We also got to see the usual level of Ministry competence," snarked Harry, prompting a scandalized (and somewhat conflicted) look from Hermione.

Remus shrugged philosophically. "Speaking as someone who has occasionally benefitted from Ministry laxity, it does have its positives. If you want to change it, get involved in the Ministry when you get out of Hogwarts."

"Ugh," Harry looked queasy, " _politics_..."

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

As they were leaving the stadium, the group ran into the Weasleys once more. All of the children, even Hermione and Percy, were quickly lost in a spirited discussion of the game. "I don't think any of them are sleeping just yet," Arthur said to Wendell while casting an indulgent smile over his brood, "why don't you all join us back at our tent for a chat over some cocoa?"

Wendell turned to Monica, who responded with a shrug and a faint "Hn" sound. Apparently he, like Sakura, had learned to interpret such vocalizations as he turned back to Arthur. "Sure, better to let them get the excitement out of their systems now than bounce off the walls all night."

Of course, once they got to the tent the adults participated in the conversations just as enthusiastically as the kids. Eventually, though, some of the younger set started to droop, and Wendell and Monica decided it was time for their family to call it a night. Given how raucous the parties outside were, Iruka and Remus decided to go with the Granger four.

As they were making their way back to their own tent, Iruka's danger sense started prickling, and he noticed Harry starting to tense as well. It took the better part of a minute before he was able to pick out what was off: Buried under the noise of loud partying and cheering, but growing closer and more noticeable, were screams of shock and fear.

"Wands out!" he snapped, his own wand already in his hand. Harry and Hermione obeyed instantly, promptly scanning the surrounding area for threats.

Remus hesitated in confusion for a few moments, but then it seemed his werewolf hearing picked up what Iruka's ninja-trained senses had. "Back to the Weasleys?" he suggested. Iruka nodded assent and set Remus leading group back the way they'd come, bringing up the rear himself.

They arrived back at the tent they'd just left as the Weasleys were pouring out. All adult members of the family had their wands out and were rolling up their sleeves. Arthur spotted their recent guests and hailed them. "Remus, Iruka, we're going to help the Ministry. Wendell, Monica, could you two take the kids? Get into the woods and _stick together_. I'll come fetch you when we've sorted this out." Given the meaningful look he gave the twins, it was clear he wanted them to protect the unarmed Muggles, and the uncharacteristically-serious nods he got in return showed his message was understood.

The noncombatants weren't even out of sight yet when the trouble came into view. Campers were fleeing in terror towards the tree line, while behind them Iruka could make out the lights and sounds of spellfire. Whoever was responsible were apparently in high spirits, hooting and jeering in an ugly contrast to the screams of fear and pain surrounding them. At the center was a tight cluster of figures with their wands pointing up towards a set of four figures, two of which were the size of children. Iruka's anger spiked, before a green flash chilled him to the bone - he didn't know of many spells that color, and those he did know were _not_ good.

Turning to the others, he began barking orders. "Weasleys, each of you pick one of the four victims. When the time comes, summon your person and get them away from this. Side-Along them if you have to. Remus, while they're doing that I need you to try and keep spellfire off them, then follow them out. I'm assuming you've got a spell that creates fireworks or something else bright, loud, and distracting?" The werewolf nodded. "Cast that near that group when you're all ready. I'll do what I can to make it hard for them to stop you all. Give me one minute to get into position, set off the distraction, then summon a couple seconds after." At their answering nods, he slipped into the shadows with a lifetime's worth of practice.

As he moved around to a flanking position, Iruka saw that the four suspended in the air were being forcibly moved around with spells, like puppets. From their clothing, the victims were likely Muggles, probably locals. Their tormentors had covered their heads and faces, hiding their identities. Occasionally, one of them would blast a tent out of their way, regardless of whether or not it was still occupied. While most of those camped in the area were fleeing (or had already), a small trickle of witches and wizards were approaching the masked wizards, pointing up at their victims and laughing. The display of wanton cruelty had Iruka wishing he had time to unseal his full kit - the only weapons he had ready to hand were a few kunai he'd worn as holdouts.

Ministry wizards were starting to arrive as well, but the growing mob was blocking their path. Iruka intended to help them with that, in a way.

Settling into a concealed spot to the side of the marchers' path, the chuunin began gathering as much chakra as he could, knowing he'd need to make his first shot count. When fireworks seemed to erupt around the rioters, he took that as his signal and flashed through hand seals.

**Suiton: Bakusui Shooha!**

A torrent of water erupted from Iruka's mouth, forming into a violent wave of turbulent water that blindsided the rioting wizards, sweeping them off their feet and battering them against each other and the ground as they were carried off in the tightly-contained flash flood. Those in the group most directly hit probably had at least a few broken bones among them. More supporters, and even a couple of the Ministry workers, were knocked down or at least drenched by the fringes of the jutsu. The four victims dipped momentarily as the spells holding them up were abruptly cut off, but were soon flying towards the Weasleys.

Iruka slipped away into the darkness, sweating and panting hard, his vision graying at the edges. He would have preferred to use a fire jutsu - less exhausting and more likely to incapacitate the targets - but the suspended rescuees and nearby Ministry response made the risk of collateral damage too high. Unfortunately, from the growing number of cracks he was hearing, most of the marchers and their supporters were still functional enough to Disapparate.

Moments later, green light suddenly washed across the fields. Iruka whirled in alarm to see what could only be the Dark Mark hanging over the woods.

The woods where his students and other innocents were hiding.

He paid no heed to the sudden and drastic increase in Disapparitions, pushing his exhausted body in a sprint toward the forested area. As he moved between the trees, he heard over a dozen voices incanting " **Stupefy!** " and saw the woods light up red from the stunners being cast. Figuring this probably indicated where the trouble was centered, he angled towards the lights and shouting.

What he found was a group of Ministry wizards about to revive an unconscious Bartemius Crouch. A petty, vindictive part of Iruka's mind took some satisfaction from seeing the pompous man so badly rumpled after the miscarriage of justice he'd inflicted on Sirius Black.

"Is everyone all right?" the chuunin called to the group, "I saw that Mark, and with all the people running into the woods..."

Many of their eyes widened in realization. Amos Diggory (the only one besides Crouch that Iruka recognized) began barking orders. "Hopewell! Finch! Perry! Grab a partner each and spread out! We need to know if anyone's been hurt, and get them help immediately! The rest of us will stay here, ready to help at need, while we figure out what the bloody hell Barty Crouch of all people was doing under a Dark Mark." The witch and two wizards he'd called on nodded, and soon three pairs were searching out through the woods.

"Some students and friends of mine are in here somewhere," Iruka chimed in, "has anyone seen Arthur Weasley's kids?" He was met with only shaken heads. "Arthur and his older sons are taking care of the people those rioters were tormenting, so I need to find his younger ones and the others with them, make sure they're all right. I'll let you know if I find anyone hurt."

"Thank you, Professor," Amos said, "and could you keep an eye out for Cedric as well? I know he's nearly an adult, but..."

"Of course," Iruka nodded, "if I see him I'll keep him with me. Better together than apart, anyways." With a nod of his head to the assembled Ministry personnel, he wearily moved off into the woods himself.

Fortunately, the group he was seeking were relatively nearby, so it only took about five minutes to find them hunkered down in a small clearing. All present (save the adult Grangers, obviously) had their wands in hand and were warily watching in all directions. Most looked about as tired as Iruka felt, the late hour after a long, exciting day only compounded by their recent surge of activity; they also showed the signs of adrenaline starting to leave their systems, which would do none of them any favors.

"Iruka-sensei!" Hermione called, "We saw the Dark Mark! What happened? Who cast that? Is everyone all right? Where are the others?"

"Mr. Weasley and the others are fine," he replied, "last I saw them, at least. There was a group rioting through the campground, tormenting what looked like a Muggle family. We got the Muggles away to safety, but then I saw the Mark. None of you are hurt, are you?"

"Maybe a few scrapes or bruises from rushing through the woods at night," Wendell answered, "but nothing to worry about."

Iruka sighed in relief, slumping back against a tree as his exhaustion started to catch up with him. "Some Ministry people are already at the spot where the Mark seems to have been cast from. Bartemius Crouch was there unconscious - don't worry," he reassured Hermione, "I could see him breathing - but no idea if he was already down before they got there or if he got hit by the Stunners they were casting. Hopefully they'll catch whoever cast the Mark, but either way I'm sure we'll find out in the next couple of days. For now, I think we could all stand to get back to our beds for the night." This was met by a unanimous round of tiredly enthusiastic nods.

Since the Weasleys' tent was closer, that was their first destination. By the time they got there, Remus and the Weasley men had returned. The five did look slightly worse for wear, suggesting they'd been cast at before they could pull out, but there were no major injuries. All of them looked profoundly relieved to see the younger set coming back unharmed. "All right there, Iruka?" Arthur asked.

Iruka nodded wearily. "Nothing a good night's rest won't fix, though I'm sure a few of us will be a bit sore in the morning." Bill and Charlie chuckled at that, with Arthur and Remus giving halfhearted grins. "How about your end? Did you get them out safely?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, "a few of the blighters tried to curse us while we were busy Summoning them, but between Remus's spellwork and the fact that half of them were staggering drunk, nothing serious actually caught us. We got Mr. Roberts and his family to one of the first-aid tents set up by St. Mungo's. It'll take a couple of days before they're healed fully, but by this time next week they should be fine at home with no memory of what happened to them, something I'm deeply glad for." His eyes grew distant and angry for a few moments, before he shook it off. "You didn't happen to see who cast that water spell, did you? Powerful thing, but whoever did it was hidden from where we were."

"I can't say that I did," Iruka said, before mouthing 'later' to the red-headed man. Arthur gave a minimal nod in acknowledgement. "Regardless, we still have a walk back to our own tent, which I really hope is still standing after that mess. I'll see you later, Arthur, everyone."

They made it back to their thankfully-intact tent without further issues or interruptions, and all promptly fell into their bunks, cots, or bedrolls after doing little more than removing their shoes. Within minutes, everyone in the tent was sound asleep.

* * *

**Omake: Another Defense Professor Rumor**

By: setokayba2n  
Professor: Lord Voldemort, claiming he's been redeemed  
Reason for Leaving: Falling into a randomly-occurring magical black hole after slipping on a banana peel discarded by Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene was originally going to be part of the previous chapter, but I decided to split it for length reasons after the Grangers' arrival grew way beyond what I'd expected to write. Throw in the realization that I'd forgotten to bring up the Weasley and Diggory families being camped nearby-ish, and my decision was made.
> 
> Also, I'm probably going to get in a little bit of trouble with my wife for a line in this chapter. It's a risk you take when basing characters on people you know.
> 
> Detail-oriented readers might note that the Weasleys came out of their tent before the rioters reached the area, unlike canon. That's because hanging out with their guests kept them all out of bed longer, so they were more awake and got out faster. Writing the rioters' arrival was tricky, since the scene in the book seems to have Harry watching things for at least 15-30 seconds (possibly a lot more) before Arthur tells them to run to the woods. It does a good job of making clear what's going on, but thinking about it makes the scene make a bit less sense. Much of the chapter caused me similar issues.
> 
> The jutsu Iruka used is the same one Kisame(ish) used in his fight against Team Gai, with a name that is translated as "Water Style: Exploding Water Shock Wave". Used by an S-rank chakra beast, it created a lake from nothing; by a past-his-prime chuunin with no available water source, it's a lot less impressive and a lot more tiring.
> 
> For those who are confused about the circumstances surrounding the Mark's casting, I do know exactly what happened. It's obviously different from canon, but rest assured that there are reasons for everything which will hopefully be made clear when all is revealed.


	3. Post Hoc

* * *

It was well past ten o'clock the next morning when the tent's occupants began to wake, many with great reluctance. Iruka's body ached in that all-too-familiar way that shinobi bodies used to angrily inform their owners that they'd used far more chakra than was strictly wise the previous day. Still, the groggy campers pulled together a late breakfast before packing up their belongings and breaking camp. Iruka and Remus helped Harry and the Grangers carry their bags back to their car, knowing that the lines for the designated Disapparition sites were going to be long no matter when they showed up.

"If we had the space for two more people and their bags, I'd offer to drop you somewhere on our way home and save you the trouble," Wendell said apologetically, "but I'm betting that casting expansion charms on a Muggle car in a Muggle area wouldn't be well-looked-upon by your Ministry."

Remus shook his head, smiling. "No," he said dryly, "it very much would not. Still, the thought is appreciated."

"Besides," Iruka commented, "think of this as our way of showing our solidarity with you: You four spend a long time driving home, we spend a long time waiting in line to go home."

The chuckling group made their farewells, and Iruka and Remus departed for the nearest Disapparition point while the Grangers' car pulled away. Thanks to the previous night's excitement, a lot of wizards and witches had cut short their planned stays at the campgrounds, leading to departure lines so long that Iruka would later learn the Grangers had actually arrived home before he did.

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**V**

When he did finally make it back to his quarters at Hogwarts, Iruka found his copy of that day's Prophet already waiting for him. The lead headline screamed: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_

Rita Skeeter was certainly in her element. Her article tore into the Ministry from every possible angle just in its opening paragraphs, yet most if not all of her criticisms were built on solid factual foundations from what Iruka had seen the previous couple of days. The vituperative not-quite-rant even stretched to include issues prior to the riot, such as the near total non-enforcement of the Statute of Secrecy in the campgrounds and the injuries among spectators during the mascot displays. Granted, it was hard to blame the badly overstretched Ministry for everything Skeeter attempted to lay at their feet, but the fact remained that these things _had_ happened as she described, even if her prose was still overly sensationalistic. Besides, better planning and preparation could certainly have at least blunted many of the problems that had occurred.

On the riot itself, it was interesting to note that the article described the Roberts family as " _a defenseless and innocent family of four_ " - under most circumstances, they would have been named as Muggles. Iruka suspected that this was omitted in order to boost the shock value for a readership that largely disdained Muggles at best. Regardless of the reason, he was glad for a little less bigotry and a little more outrage against such malice and cruelty. What followed, however, was distinctly less welcome:

_It was just as a heroic group of wizards effected a daring rescue of the four victims that the danger peaked. According to reliable eyewitness reports, an unidentified party somehow conjured a blast of water whose size and violence were beyond what any normal wizard could plausibly create. So great was its scope that it not only swept away the central group of agitators but also caught many of those who had flocked to their twisted spectacle, and even took responding Ministry personnel off their feet! Rioters were tossed about like rag dolls, and that some among them were seriously injured may be taken as nearly certain._

_While sources consulted by this reporter were unable to name any known, normal magic which could produce such a torrent, subsequent events may provide a clue: As drenched, dazed, and damaged wizards began to Disapparate or otherwise flee the scene of the crime, an unknown party cast the Dark Mark from a patch of woods nearby. The appearance of that symbol of horror and murder, unseen for nearly thirteen years, prompted quick and terrified Disapparitions by more than just rioters._

_The appearance of that dread Mark distracted and diverted the Ministry personnel responding to the riot, permitting all of the rioters to escape save a few too battered to do so. The night's one bit of good news was that, despite the usual meaning of that symbol of depravity, none of the many innocent witches, wizards, and children who had fled into the woods from which it was cast were seriously injured. This is certainly something we should all thank our good fortune for, doubly so as some eyewitness reports suggest that the rioters may have cast at least one Killing Curse during their rampage._

_In a further twist, Ministry personnel attempting to apprehend the caster of the Dark Mark succeeded only in Stunning one of their own: Bartemius Crouch, disgraced former director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and presently head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, claimed when revived that he had been nearby and was investigating the Mark's casting when his colleagues filled the area with Stunners. While it is certainly unlikely that such a man would cast the Dark Mark himself, questions must be asked about whether he was truly already in the woods as he claimed, and why. After all, given Mr. Crouch's history (and his employment by the Ministry), one would expect him to have been part of the response to the riot rather than fleeing to safety. Whatever is really going on, this reporter pledges to you, the reader, to find out!_

_Many questions remain unanswered as of this morning: Who were the rioters? Who was it that attacked them with such brutal efficiency and terrifying power? Who cast the Dark Mark, and why? The Daily Prophet will continue to investigate this incident and bring you any new developments._

_For information on the Quidditch World Cup Final game, see our Special Sports Section beginning on page 2..._

Iruka couldn't honestly blame Skeeter for reporting (or at least implying) that the water jutsu and Dark Mark were connected. She'd heard hoofbeats and wingbeats together and concluded that it was a hippogriff, when it was actually a horse and a bird just passing each other. That didn't help the frission of resentment born of growing up in a world where the obvious answer was almost always wrong.

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**V**

It was no surprise that the chuunin soon found himself summoned to his employer's office. The Albus Dumbledore that greeted him showed the kind of weariness typical of having been roused from sleep and thrown into a crisis situation, and it wasn't hard to guess the cause.

"I take it," the Headmaster began, "that you were behind the rather unexpected swimming lesson given to last night's antagonists?" At Iruka's nod, he continued, "May I ask why you chose that particular attack?"

"Well," Iruka replied, "given the large number of targets I needed something that could affect an area; the Muggles were effectively hostages, meaning it needed to be quick and thorough. Genjutsu would have been my first choice, since it would have potentially let me lock the entire mob down, but if any of them knew Occlumency that could go very wrong very quickly. I also didn't have most of my equipment handy - a few well-placed flash bombs would have really helped, and from now on I plan to include a couple in my day-to-day carry. All that was really left was ninjutsu..." He proceeded to explain his reasoning from the previous night regarding the use of water rather than fire.

Albus nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, the Ministry were only able to apprehend a handful of people last night. Politically speaking, none are of any real consequence, and I sincerely doubt that they will reveal anything when questioned that would be truly useful against their escaped cohorts. As they are all purebloods with influential patrons, it's doubtful that any will spend more than a year in Azkaban, if they are even sent to prison at all. As it is, your greatest accomplishment last night was the safe rescue of the Roberts family. Beyond that, you have managed to greatly inconvenience a few particularly unsavory individuals, and caused varying degrees of injury, expense, and quiet humiliation to a number of others; I suspect we'll see very little of Lucius Malfoy and his fellows for a day or two, while their injuries heal."

"That aside," the aged wizard continued, "I would like to ask if you observed anything related to either the riot or the casting of the Dark Mark that is not already known."

"Nothing comes to mind," Iruka frowned, "but I can leave you a copy of the memory if you'd like. You certainly know a lot more than I do when it comes to magic, witches and wizards, and Britain - you might notice something I didn't know was relevant."

"That would be helpful, though at present I'm not sure when I'll have time to actually review it," Albus smiled wanly. "Let's get that memory copied and adjourn this little talk. We can speak more tomorrow after the staff meeting, but for now I hear the siren song of my pillow."

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**V**

The next morning saw everyone in the castle gathered in the Great Hall. A quick glance around showed no changes to the staff beyond the absence of a Defense Professor. Once everyone was settled in, Albus opened the meeting.

"Another year about to begin," he said with equal parts sagacity and eagerness, "and an interesting year it shall be. As you have all undoubtedly noticed by now, there is no Professor present today for Defense Against the Dark Arts; rest assured that I have indeed once again managed to fill that position. This year, the class will be taught by another expert in the field, a retired Auror of some renown, my old friend Alastor Moody." This statement prompted many raised eyebrows around the table, along with expressions of cautious optimism. "Alastor has agreed to teach for a single year only, and has assured me that he will arrive before the start of his first lesson but at a time of his own choosing." Albus smiled wryly. "Those of you familiar with his habits and practices will likely find it no surprise that he prefers to set his own unannounced schedule in order to minimize the opportunity for ambushes. I have also conveyed certain instructions to the House Elves so as to avoid unduly stressing our newest Professor or prompting an unfortunate misunderstanding."

"What of the students, Albus?" asked Poppy, "Alastor has long been the type to hex first and ask questions later."

"Given the numerous prior attempts on his life, I do not begrudge the man a sense of caution, even if he may take it to excess at times," the Headmaster replied. "Regarding the students, I fully expect that his words and actions will swiftly prompt all but the most foolhardy to tread lightly in his presence, and to avoid startling him or acting in a way that could be construed as aggressive. Beyond that, Alastor is well aware that most of our students are underage, and will not use any potentially-harmful spells on anyone unless in response to an attack with similarly dangerous magic. A simple Stunning Hex or Full-Body Bind is harmless, and could serve as an effective object lesson on the hazards of antagonizing skilled duelists."

Some of the staff looked a bit uneasy about this last point, but several showed clear agreement, particularly Severus Snape.

"With that bit of business out of the way, I have two further announcements to make which happen to be connected. The first is that, for reasons which will become apparent, the inter-House Quidditch season must sadly be cancelled. The second is that I have received final confirmation that, for the first time in over two hundred years, Hogwarts will play host to the Triwizard Tournament. I and various other parties involved in organizing the Tournament have already spoken to some of you regarding the preparations necessary; you may take this as confirmation to begin those preparations."

"For those of you that do not already know, the Triwizard Tournament is a competition between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France, and the Durmstrang Institute in Scandinavia. It was begun in the thirteenth century, and discontinued in the eighteenth due to a rising number of fatalities. This year's Triwizard will be the first successful attempt to revive the Tournament, and will feature numerous changes to the rules and implementation in order to permit the contestants to compete in reasonable safety."

"There will be a total of seven official events throughout the year composing the Tournament," Albus continued, "including the three tasks in which the Champions from each school will compete." A wave of his wand sent packets of parchment to each person at the table. "These documents detail Hogwarts' part in the Triwizard, including the dates of each event, the preparations required, and what you personally will be doing. Take a moment to look them over today, but in the interests of expedience I would ask that you save more detailed readings for after this meeting. You may of course come to me with any questions or concerns you might have. I must stress, however, that none of what you learn regarding the tasks of this year's Tournament may be shared with the students of any of the participating schools, or with their families."

Thanks to long experience as a part-time administrative shinobi, Iruka was able to read through his entire packet during the lunch break. Quite a few points were concerning, and he was less than enthusiastic about the described tasks.

"Albus," he asked, "aren't dragons Class XXXXX Dangerous Creatures? How is a lone teenager supposed to confront something with the Ministry's highest rating for danger to wizardkind with only their wand and without any opportunity to research and prepare? I thought this Tournament was supposed to be designed to _avoid_ the high mortality rate."

The Headmaster sighed. "Sadly, I was unable to convince my fellow organizers to select a more reasonable creature for the First Task; there was a great deal of pressure to maximize the spectacle of the Tournament. The most I was able to achieve was to have personnel standing ready to safely extract any contestant deemed to be in immediate mortal danger."

"Spectacle?" Iruka responded, "Putting aside, then, the insanity of pitting lone teenagers unprepared against creatures normally handled by teams of trained professionals, how does the planned Second Task provide any spectacle at all? And won't the hedges block the spectators' view of much of the maze in the Third?"

"All valid points," Albus answered, "each of which I raised with the Ministry officials in charge of planning for the tasks. Unfortunately, Bartemius Crouch has focused almost exclusively on the organizational and logistical aspects of the Tournament, leaving Ludo Bagman to design the tasks themselves. While Ludo is not an evil man, I am afraid that his judgment can be rather lacking at times, and he tends to take a very laid-back approach to his duties. My concerns were dismissed with little more than a wave of the hand and a 'Don't worry about the details, Headmaster'. I was unable to convince the Ministry to take a more sensible route regarding the tasks, and not for lack of trying: The tasks as you see them are actually somewhat moderated in their level of danger from what was originally proposed, and even that cost me quite a number of longstanding favors to accomplish. I very much fear that my standing with the Ministry has been somewhat diminished for the foreseeable future given how aggressively I pushed for changes. Minister Fudge was most distressed when I threatened to bar the Tournament from Hogwarts grounds entirely if the tasks were not made more reasonable. The Tournament as it now stands is the best I was able to manage, and we shall all simply have to do our best to prevent calamity."

There were a few moments of thoughtful, worried silence before Minerva spoke up. "Are you certain we cannot hold the usual school Quidditch season? I know of more than one student that has a real chance at playing professionally, but their chances won't be helped at all by losing a year of practice, experience, and opportunities to display their skills for scouts. I don't know about my fellow staff, but I for one would be more than willing to put in the extra time and effort needed to see both Quidditch and Triwizard take place."

"Alas," the Headmaster replied, "the Ministry was quite adamant on the matter. They wish us to give the Tournament our fullest attentions. Perhaps more pressingly, none of those involved wish to risk any distraction from the fruits of their labor."

After some grumbling about the idiocy and selfishness of government officials, a pastime shared by every human culture, the meeting settled back down to more typical business.

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**V**

A few days later, a slightly worried chuunin made his way to the Headmaster's Office.

"What brings you here today, Iruka?" Dumbledore asked. "No troubles preparing for the new term, I hope?"

"No, Albus, that's all as set as it can be. It's just... Something's been niggling at my thoughts for the past several days, and I finally figured out what's bothering me. Before I explain, can I ask exactly _how_ the three Champions are chosen?"

The elder wizard smiled congenially, easily slipping into 'lecture mode'. "They will be selected from those who submit their candidacy by the Goblet of Fire, a rather impressive magical artifact. Unlike any human judge or group of judges, the Goblet is guaranteed to be truly impartial, picking only the most worthy as Champions, however it judges such 'worthiness'." His smile slipped somewhat. "It does have the one major drawback that it will lock those it chooses into binding magical contracts to ensure that they compete, but I intend to warn the students of this fact before they can submit their names."

Iruka's worry was _not_ eased by this. "And exactly how will they submit their names?"

"The night before the Choosing of the Champions," Albus explained, "the Goblet will be lit. All those wishing to submit themselves as possible Champions will need to write their name and school on a piece of parchment or paper and cast it into the Goblet's flames. After twenty-four hours, the Goblet will burn away all submissions but those it finds most worthy, which it will disgorge to make its selections known. Once the Champions have been chosen, the flames will go out, only relit for the next Tournament."

"But the plans you passed out said that only students that are of age can participate," the chuunin pressed, "what's to stop, say, the Weasley Twins from putting their names in?"

"I will be surrounding the Goblet with a magical defense called an Age Line, which will allow only those who are of age to pass through. This will necessitate weakening the wards in that location slightly, but not to a degree that would permit other means of access to the castle or Goblet. The cutoff could be set at any age, actually, and could exclude those older rather than those younger, but I digress. The Goblet will only accept entries submitted directly by hand, not those thrown, levitated, banished, or otherwise conveyed, so all that is needed is to keep ineligible students from getting within arms' reach."

"And people submitting names other than their own?"

Albus blinked. "I must confess, I had not considered that possibility. Given the attraction of the Tournament's prize, such a thing would be rather unlikely; the Goblet does not accept multiple entries from the same person, and thus entering another would preclude entering oneself. May I ask the origin of this line of questioning?"

"The date," Iruka replied. At his employer's look of confusion, he elaborated. "The Choosing of the Champions is set for 31st October, a date that has a bit of a history over the last few years here at Hogwarts. A quote from a Muggle author I heard a while ago: 'Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.' Three years in a row something problematic has happened on Halloween, so putting an important event on that day feels like asking for trouble. It may be just my professional paranoia, but I don't like taking chances with the students' safety, especially after Harry's dream and the mess at the World Cup."

The Headmaster frowned thoughtfully. "Given what Mister Potter remembered of his dream, it is not inconceivable that Lord Voldemort somehow intends to use the Tournament as a means to attack Harry, perhaps by having an agent submit his name. I find myself sharing your concerns, which leaves only the question of how we might address them."

"Post a guard," the chuunin suggested. "Anyone looking to submit their name has to have their slip checked by an adult to make sure it's legitimate. Give whoever's on guard a list of eligible students from all three schools."

"It's possible," Albus stroked his beard in contemplation, "though given the nature of our concerns it might be best to ensure that the person on guard would be able to handle one of Lord Voldemort's agents. The list of possibilities is short, and most of those on it could intimidate potential entrants, open us up to charges of favoritism, or even both. We therefore need someone highly capable, difficult to deceive, approachable, and ideally also able to borrow the Marauder's Map from Mr. Potter to ensure that people only submit themselves." Here his twinkling eyes fixed on his guest. "That really only leaves one person..."

Iruka drooped slightly. "Not my first all-nighter," he sighed, "and at least this time I'll know in advance so I can get in an afternoon nap beforehand. Then again, I'd have probably ended up watching the guard anyway if you'd chosen someone else, so I guess this just cuts out the middleman. I'll talk to Harry about borrowing the Map, but given the reason for it somehow I doubt he'll object."

* * *

**Defense Teacher Omake:**

Source: Black' Victor Cachat  
Teacher: Hermione Granger, because she's already read all the textbooks and knows the material (at least in theory)  
Reason for Leaving: Romantic entanglement with a student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter, for those that don't know, is the name of a type of fallacy. The "Post Hoc Fallacy" comes from "post hoc, ergo propter hoc", which very roughly translates as "coming after, therefore caused by", and is the incorrect conclusion that because two events occurred one after the other, the second must have been caused by the first. For a more competent explanation, Google and Wikipedia are things that exist.
> 
> Also, "Harry and the Grangers" sounds like a band name. I just noticed this. Still the least clumsy way to identify the group.
> 
> I'd originally had Dumbledore explaining the Tournament schedule over several paragraphs, then realized that was boring and having him hand out info packets worked better.
> 
> It was only when writing the staff meeting that I came up with the idea that the Tasks were originally even worse-designed than we saw, but Dumbledore burned a lot of political capital to try and keep the Champions and spectators safe. The amount he was throwing his weight around in the process could well have contributed to how readily Fudge believed that he was trying to take over. Besides that, I don't exactly find it implausible that the Ministry would have been pushing for more "spectacular" tasks that were likely to get people killed, not out of malice but out of sheer incompetence and hubris. I figure that many Ministry officials, like most politicians, tend to be poster children for the Dunning-Kruger Effect.
> 
> Some might be wondering why, if Dumbledore could allow an Age Line by only slightly weakening the wards in that area, he didn't do so to keep students out of the third-floor corridor in 1991. The answer is that this Age Line only needs to last for 24 hours, or actually a bit less given the exact timing of events. Doing this in '91 would have required recasting the Age Lines once or twice a day, and at a power level only Dumbledore himself could manage, and still would have left the Stone marginally more vulnerable than the alternative. Debatably still a better idea, but the white-bearded one is far from infallible.


	4. Leadup

As he had the past two years, Iruka helped Harry 'meet up with' the Grangers on Platform 9 3/4. After all, there wouldn't be much point to hiding where Harry was living only to have him arrive at the platform every year in the same company.

Now the students were settling in for the Welcoming Feast, most of them fairly wet from the raging thunderstorm outside. He had to admit, there was something spectacular about watching the roiling purple-black clouds, forking lightning, and torrential rain through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall while remaining comfortably warm and dry. This would probably be scant comfort to the incoming First Years taking the long way up; by the time they reached the castle, they'd probably be "drookit", as Minerva put it.

When the new crop of students arrived, they all looked like they'd missed the boats and _swum_ across the lake. Hagrid would later relate that one of them actually _had_ gone for a bit of a swim, falling out of his boat before being helped back in by his classmates and the Giant Squid. Given the fact that the child in question was the younger brother of Colin Creevey and seemed to share the older boy's practically Naruto-level manic energy, he probably went overboard because he just couldn't sit still.

All the extra water didn't seem to bother the Sorting Hat, and soon Hogwarts's newest class was seated among the four House tables. Once everyone had eaten their fill and the remains of the feast had been magicked away, Albus stood to give his usual start-of-term announcements. His standard cautions (banned objects, Forbidden Forest is forbidden, etc.) were related to the student body, much of which promptly ignored them. The announcement that there would be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup certainly shocked them, but the Headmaster was interrupted before could describe the competition that would be taking its place.

Thunder echoed in the Great Hall, painfully loud even through the stone walls and closed windows, and the Hall's doors slammed open. Standing in the doorway was a figure leaning on a walking staff, their features hidden beneath a long black hooded cloak. Just after another bolt of lightning illuminated him for all to see, the newcomer pulled back his hood to reveal the scarred visage of Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody to those not half-blinded by the flash. Hogwarts's newest Professor began stomping his way towards the Head Table, shocking students with their first good look at his scarred and maimed face on the next lightning strike.

Approaching Albus, he shook the Headmaster's hand as the two exchanged low words - probably a sign and countersign, given Moody's paranoia - before making his way to the vacant seat among the faculty. "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher?" Albus said, smiling as if nothing were out of the ordinary, "Professor Moody."

Iruka clapped for his newest colleague, but Hagrid and the Headmaster were the only others to do so, the rest of the staff and students too shocked by either Moody's arrival or his appearance to do more than stare as the man tucked into his dinner.

"Certainly knows how to make an entrance," Iruka said lowly to Minerva as the students began to speak animatedly amongst themselves again.

The Deputy Headmistress just snorted. "Alastor has always had something of a flair for the dramatic," she replied diplomatically.

Albus quickly reclaimed the students' attention, and after Minerva interrupted a digression about a joke he'd heard recently proceeded to explain the basics of the Triwizard Tournament. A lot of the students were clearly excited about the competition, and more than one looked eager to try for the thousand-Galleon prize, though Iruka was pleased to see S.E.N. wearing looks of thoughtful caution.

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The students were piling into the Great Hall for dinner the next day when Iruka arrived at what looked like the tail end of one of Draco Malfoy's habitual bouts of verbal diarrhea, directed as usual at Harry his friends. The chuunin only caught "-blown herself up again lately?" directed at Luna, but it wasn't hard to guess that his current point of attack was Pandora's accident.

"How about your mum, Malfoy?" Harry cut in, "She gotten any unexpected baths recently? Then again, with you and Lucius around, she probably washes five times a day to get the slime off."

"Don't you dare insult my family, Potter." The young Slytherin's pale face was stormy.

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away. He clearly wasn't unaware of his surroundings, though, shifting sideways as Malfoy drew his wand.

Surprisingly, the green-clad Fourth Year was able to cast whatever it was without an incantation. A white curse shot past Harry's head with a loud BANG, prompting screams from the crowd of students nearby. Professor Moody, who'd just arrived on the scene, instantly had is own wand out, and with another BANG had transfigured Malfoy into an albino ferret.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" bellowed the scarred ex-Auror, before turning to Harry's group and the rest of the students. "Anybody hit? Everyone have someone else check you too," he called as he made his way over, "just in case he got one of you and you're just not feelin' it."

This, predictably, led to a brief susurration of panic among the children, all of whom were looking over their own bodies and those of their friends for any sign that Malfoy's curse had connected. A few of the older ones were particularly thorough, especially with their boyfriend or girlfriend. After half a minute of this, the consensus seemed to be that the current-ferret had thankfully managed to miss the entire crowd with his cast.

As the students began to calm, Moody stopped Crabbe from carrying off his presently-fuzzy classmate, and moved towards the Slytherin troublemakers. Malfoy squeaked in fright and tried to dash for the dungeons, but another jab of the Professor's wand had him propelled into the air. Gravity reasserted its hold, as usual, and the ferret fell back to the stone floor with a smack, only to bounce back up into the air as if from a trampoline.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned. Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..." As the Defense Professor spoke, Malfoy kept bouncing, rising higher each time and beginning to squeak in distress. "Never - do - that - again -" Moody continued, punctuating each word with another bounce as the white ferret tumbled and spun in a vain attempt to somehow stop the impromptu flying lesson.

The spectacle was soon brought to an end by Minerva's arrival, though Iruka had to fight desperately to hold his laughter in when Moody answered the witch's question about what he was doing with "Teaching." The Deputy Headmistress quickly had the ferret reverted to human form; Malfoy was dizzy, disoriented, disheveled, discombobulated, and generally displeased, but other than the damage to his pride was technically unharmed.

Though the boy in question was dragged off to his Head of House by Professor Moody, before dinner had ended virtually every student in the castle had heard the tale of Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.

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It took a couple of days, but eventually Iruka was able to catch the Weasley twins alone on a free period.

"Messrs. Weasley and Weasley, do you have a moment?"

"I'm sure we could spare a moment," "maybe even two." "What's on your mind," "Professor?"

"I noticed at the Sorting Feast how... _disappointed_ you both were about the lack of Quidditch this year. Professor McGonagall wasn't happy either when she found out, but unfortunately the Ministry has decided that the staff will be too busy with the Tournament to also run the Quidditch Cup." The chuunin eyed the twin terrors, whose expressions quickly cycled from confusion through realization and landing on anger, proving that they were far smarter than their grades would suggest. "All that said," he continued, "it's no business of ours what students get up to on their free time, so long as nobody gets hurt and no rules are broken. It wouldn't surprise me at all if an enterprising group of students decided to arrange something to entertain themselves and others in between the Tasks, maybe as a way to make friends with those from Beaxbatons and Durmstrang."

When a young Naruto had worn a particular grin, the Academy staff tended to get worried. Seeing it in stereo... Iruka was just glad this particular bit of mischief wasn't going to be aimed at him.

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Midafternoon that Thursday, Iruka received an unexpected visit from a pale and clearly shaken student.

"Neville?" the chuunin asked in surprise, "What happened?"

The teen walked woodenly over to the chair he often occupied, while Iruka stepped around his desk to his own seat. A wave of the Professor's wand set the teapot to heating up.

"Defense class," the young Gryffindor said after a few moments, "Moody did a lesson on the Unforgiveable Curses. He didn't just talk about them, either, he... he had some spiders, and..."

"And he demonstrated all three Unforgiveables on them," Iruka finished. "That was... incredibly insensitive of him, especially since he probably worked with your parents. At the very least, there's no way he didn't know what one of those curses cost you." The chuunin also suspected that he'd be seeing Harry sooner rather than later, but wouldn't be at all surprised if the raven-haired teen had prioritized his friend over himself.

"It was just..." Neville choked out, "seeing that spider, knowing what he was doing to it, knowing people did that to my mum and dad..."

Iruka let him talk. Maybe a trained counselor might have known what to say, but really, what _could_ you say to something like this? If there were words that could heal such a deep, old scar that had been ripped open so suddenly, he didn't know them. All he could do was listen and share what comfort he could.

It was the better part of an hour later that an emotionally exhausted Neville left his sensei's office to find the rest of S.E.N. waiting for him with sad, caring smiles. No words were exchanged, simply hugs from the girls and a clasp of the shoulder from Harry, before the group moved off.

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Harry arrived that evening, and as soon as the office door closed behind him his mask fell away to reveal the turmoil underneath. Again the student talked and the teacher listened, though in this case the fact that Harry remembered his parents' deaths meant that the reminder was much more direct. On the other hand, repeated Dementor exposure the previous year had numbed him somewhat to the memories, lessening their impact somewhat. Either way, Iruka had a bit more he could say, given his background's greater similarity to Harry's than Neville's.

Heading back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry clearly did not expect to find his friends gathered outside Iruka's office. His surprise, combined with hints of triumph from Ginny, exasperation from Hermione, and wryness from Neville, made it clear that he'd tried (and failed) to give them all the slip. Three hugs and a shoulder-clasp later, they departed.

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Unsurprisingly, the Tournament was another major topic of conversation at the next full S.E.N. meeting.

"I've been reading about it since the announcement," said Hermione, prompting fond 'of course you have' eye rolls from Harry, Neville, and Ginny. "It's a good thing they're restricting it to adult witches and wizards, and taking precautions besides. Loads of people have died competing, and even some that weren't Champions have been hurt. In the last Tournament, in 1792, the Heads of all three schools were injured when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on a rampage. It's all in-"

"Hogwarts: A History" the entire group chorused with fond, joking smiles.

Hermione huffed indignantly. "As I was _saying_ , this time the Tournament should hopefully be much safer."

"It's as safe as the Headmaster could make it," Iruka demurred, "though the tasks are still going to be at least somewhat dangerous. If I thought it would do any good, I'd ask you to remind people how nasty it could get, but I've worked with children and teenagers long enough to know how little effect that would likely have."

"How are they choosing the Champions?" Luna asked. Her silvery eyes held none of their usual dreaminess, focusing on her sensei with her keen mind visibly running full-tilt.

"We're not supposed to say," he replied, "but what I _can_ say is that I'll be standing by to make sure that nobody is entered against their wishes. That reminds me, Harry, would you mind if I borrowed the Marauder's Map from the evening of October 30th to after the Halloween Feast?"

"Um... sure, I guess. I know I can trust you with it, after all." Harry was nonplussed. The rest of Iruka's students looked mostly confused, though Luna showed clear relief.

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In late September, word came that Sirius Black had made his first trip out from St. Mungo's, a brief visit to Remus's cottage just to enjoy some fresh air and open, natural spaces. A week later, the two Marauders had gone to Hogsmeade for some shopping and to give Black the opportunity to acclimate to larger groups of people again, though from Remus's account all the notoriety had brought back a bit of the old Sirius, someone who reveled in attention almost as much as a young Naruto.

Their third excursion had been to the old home of the Black family in London, to determine how much and what kind of work would be needed to bring it back to habitability after years of vacancy and neglect, and to possibly check the family library in search of the spells needed to progress work on new copies of the Marauder's Map. This trip was less successful than the previous two: The Black townhouse was not only unfit for human habitation, it was barely even safe to step through the door. While the family's house-elf Kreacher was still alive, he had apparently been badly neglecting his duties in the absence of a master or mistress beyond the portrait of Walburga Black, who was apparently quite insane.

This neglect, coupled with the large quantities of Dark magic saturating the house, meant that it was not only filthy but also infested with numerous magical pests and riddled with curses. Neither wizard wanted to venture too deeply inside without backup, and it had been decided that Black would engage the services of professional cursebreakers and specialists in magical pest removal to scour the building top to bottom before he began renovations. It would be expensive, but between his inheritance and compensation from the Ministry he'd have plenty left to renovate the home after it was cleared and still live comfortably without needing to work.

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Term continued largely uneventfully through September and into October. Weekends saw an unusual number of pickup Quidditch matches, much to the delight of several staff members. If the weather was good enough, it wasn't odd to see a Professor or two marking papers or preparing lessons while sitting in the stands.

Slytherin was less well-represented than the other three Houses, but there were certainly a few fliers in green and silver; interestingly, none had been members of the official House team the previous year, the only such team not seen on the pitch. This was probably because, when the usual Slytherin players had shown up to some of the earlier games and gone into some of their usual dirty play, they were quickly ordered off the pitch by the spectating Professors. Because these weren't official games, the Quidditch rules were more relaxed but the Hogwarts rules were in full force. Roughing up fellow students in front of a staff member was certainly not approved behavior. Since there really wasn't anything to be gained, the offending players decided their time was better spent elsewhere.

Except Draco Malfoy.

The blonde bully continued to show up and _demand_ to be placed as Seeker, particularly in any match with Harry on the other side. After a couple of games, his constant sneering, sniping, and generally bad behavior put his teammates off enough that soon nobody would pick him for their team. This left him to sulk in the stands, muttering about his father and glaring furiously at anyone and everyone outside his little retinue.

Back on the pitch, without the pressure of an official Quidditch Cup to win and no effect on the House Cup standings for score, most of the pickup games were noticeably friendlier and less aggressively competitive than usual, even between players from Slytherin and Gryffindor. Students were having more frequent friendly interactions with those from other Houses, and by late October there'd been a slight but definite dip in the number of inter-House incidents (other than those perpetrated by Malfoy and those in his orbit). Divisions built up over nearly a millennium of separation and acrimony weren't going to be brought down in a week, a month, a year, or probably even a generation, but all of Hogwarts' staff were grateful for the improvement in discipline, especially with visitors coming.

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In the last week of October, Iruka learned from his students that the Fourth-Year Defense classes had been subjected to the Imperius Curse. Of all the children in Harry's class, only Harry had been able to throw the curse off entirely by the end of the lesson. Neville and Hermione had managed some resistance, enough that they wouldn't pass for normal, but even that had required repeated exposure. Apparently being subjected to the Imperius enough could train one's resistance, something Iruka resolved to ask Moody about when the opportunity arose.

First, though, he had questions and both hoped and expected that Albus had answers. This was why he was once again entering the Headmaster's Office.

"Ah, Iruka," the elder wizard greeted him, "do come in. Given the timing of your visit, I'm guessing that you've just heard about Alastor's most recent lesson for the Fourth-Years?"

A bit of tension left Iruka at that query. "So he _did_ have permission for that, then? We don't have to worry about Aurors showing up to drag the latest Defense Professor out before even Halloween?"

"Indeed he did", Albus said with a reassuring smile. "Given the level of success he achieved during his career, his old department at the Ministry was quite willing to accommodate his request."

"That explains the 'how'," the chuunin replied, "and anyone who knows the man can guess the 'why' from his angle. Now the question is, what was _your_ reason for allowing it? Everything I've seen shows that you try your hardest to shield the children from the uglier parts of the world, to let them be young and carefree while they can. Why- of course... Snape's darkening Mark, Harry's dream, the riot and Dark Mark at the World Cup... you're worried something's coming."

The Headmaster nodded tiredly. "When a person has seen and experienced enough, they tend to develop a sort of sense for such things, a feel for the flows and patterns of events in the world. I look at the signs you described, and I am far more than worried. While I have long suspected that Lord Voldemort would return, I had hoped that there would be more time to prepare, especially in young Harry's case. Given the looming potential threat, it is necessary that the older students learn as much as Alastor can teach them about surviving an attack from Dark wizards. His lessons on the Unforgiveables may be harsh, but if we are very fortunate they may be shocking enough to some of the more sheltered children from - shall we say 'certain old families'? - to help them realize that becoming a Death Eater might not be as wonderful as they have previously imagined. If even one child chooses a better path in life, I would count that a success."

"The best victories are the ones where you don't have to fight," Iruka agreed.

* * *

**Defense Teacher Omake**

Source: BabylonRanger on AO3  
Teacher: Rita Skeeter  
Reason for Leaving: Caught in a spiderweb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Drookit" means "soaked to the skin" in Scots Gaelic. Just a little tidbit picked up from reading Harry Crow.
> 
> Normally I loathe contriving ways to force events back onto canon rails (along with fics that do so), but I just couldn't bear to not include Draco Malfoy the Incredible Bouncing Ferret. Let's justify it by saying the little twerp would have antagonized Harry regardless - after all, he'd pretty much gone without for the whole summer, so he was probably really pent-up, and... and the Harry/Draco shippers just checked out. I could have probably phrased that better.
> 
> A bit more quoting from and paraphrasing of the book than I like this chapter, but similar characters in similar circumstances are likely to say similar things. Don't worry, things should start going further off the rails very shortly.


	5. Visitors

As the arrival of the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang drew closer, most of Hogwarts' staff became increasingly tense, worried about presenting a good impression to their international guests. The school's elves had been gleefully giving everything available an extra-thorough cleaning, aided and directed by an Argus Filch who had become even more surly and cantankerous than usual. Iruka had actually needed to have a quiet word with the caretaker after the man had brought a pair of first-year girls to tears with his tirade after they'd committed the terrible sin of failing to wipe their feet when entering the castle. Even Minerva, usually a consummate professional, was reportedly becoming waspish and snapping at struggling students.

Late afternoon on the thirtieth of October, Hogwarts' entire complement of staff and students, along with several of its ghosts, were arrayed outside the castle to greet the two visiting schools which were expected to arrive at any moment. Many of those present, including some of the staff, were speculating on how their guests would arrive; Albus simply responded with a coy smile. Iruka wondered if any of the others noticed that their boss's eyes were primarily scanning the sky and lake.

After a few minutes of waiting, the Headmaster called out, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" This prompted a flurry of activity, children and adults alike looking around frantically, with only a few immediately following the venerable wizard's gaze skyward. The rapidly-growing speck visible in the distance quickly grew closer, showing itself to be a carriage drawn by a large team of winged horses. As it came into the light from the castle's windows, Iruka realized that both the carriage and horses were massively oversized: The carriage itself was as big as a large house, while the horses were each the size of an elephant.

The massive carriage landed with an appropriately loud racket, slowing to a stop in front of the assembled crowd. At this angle, those watching could see the crest that adorned its door, two crossed wands each emitting a trio of sparks, presumably the sigil of Beauxbatons. Almost as the carriage stopped, that door opened and a young male student in pale blue robes dropped out. He quickly turned and unfolded a set of golden steps, a necessity given the fact that the carriage's floor was over a meter and a half off the ground, though it would certainly be entertaining to watch students trying to climb back in without the steps.

When the next person emerged, Iruka began to wonder if everything about Beauxbatons would be scaled up; the woman was as big as Hagrid! Unlike the perpetually-scruffy gamekeeper, the towering witch was immaculately groomed: Her shoes were well-polished, and matched her black satin dress for color, and her hair was kept in a neat bun at the base of her skull. Only the necklace and rings she wore, gleaming with opals, relieved the look of imposing severity, transforming it instead into an impression of elegant professionalism. In terms of actual features, she had olive skin and a face that was more handsome than beautiful, with sharp intelligence in eyes that now scanned the castle and crowd in assessment.

After leading the students in a round of welcoming applause, Albus stepped forward and greeted the woman by name as Madame Maxime (Beauxbatons' Headmistress, Iruka recalled), receiving a warm smile and heavily-accented greeting in return. At the same time, around a dozen teens joined their Headmistress on the lawn, shivering in the late October evening chill. This wasn't much of a surprise, given their lightweight silk robes were presumably designed for their school's much warmer climate. Once again Iruka marveled at wizards' lack of common sense - surely they'd been told that Hogwarts was in the Scottish highlands, so why not wear a few more layers, or at least a warming charm or two?

Wait, did Headmistress Maxime just say her horses only drank single-malt whiskey? Iruka could already hear Hogwarts' budget creaking under the strain of providing enough of the liquor to water twelve mammoth horses. Even with how much whiskey was produced locally, that would _not_ be cheap.

The French contingent quickly made their way inside to warm back up, while the Hogwarts crowd went back to watching for their other guests. Most of the students were now watching the rapidly-darkening sky, but Iruka was following Albus's lead and focusing on the lake. Thus, the two of them were among the first to notice the lake's glassy surface begin to ripple and roil. As the students began to turn their attention lakeward, alerted by Lee Jordan who was probably alerted by the growing noise from the water, a whirlpool began to form at the lake's center.

That whirlpool rapidly grew to a diameter of at least fifty meters. It was an impressive feat; Iruka knew that, even with his water affinity, he would be unable to replicate it without suffering chakra exhaustion very quickly. As he watched, a dark pole rose from the depths, soon revealed as the mainmast of a sailing ship nearly fifty meters long, of dark wood. Between the dark, waterlogged wood and a somewhat damaged appearance, the whole vessel looked like a resurrected shipwreck. The ghostly effect was only heightened by the cold, pale light shining from the ship's interior.

Once the waters of the lake began to calm and the ship made its way to shore, Iruka could just make out the name " _Svärdet_ " emblazoned on the bow. An anchor splashed into the water and a gangplank was swiftly extended, allowing those aboard to disembark. In contrast to the underdressed French students, these teens were radically overdressed in bulky, layered furs. At their head, dressed in silvery furs, was an older wizard who was presumably Highmaster Igor Karkaroff, a former Death Eater who had sold out his comrades to escape prison. Unless the man had reformed himself, it didn't speak well of Durmstrang Institute that they had put such a person in charge.

Karkaroff's unctuous, insincere greeting and his overall demeanor put paid to any thought that he might have reformed or repented. One didn't need to be a shinobi or know his history to tell that this was not a man to be trusted. The fact that he blatantly favored one student (Viktor Krum, of all people), famous or not, did nothing to raise Iruka's opinion of him either.

Everyone headed inside to the Great Hall to partake of the Welcoming Feast and open the 1994-95 Triwizard Tournament.

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The Goblet of Fire, Iruka felt, was a reasonably impressive-looking bit of magic.

For the first hour or two.

When you'd been alone standing watch over it for over six hours, though, it was about as impressive as one of those flaming cocktails that civilians drank when they want to feel adventurous. Yes, it was a cup full of fire, but after the things he'd seen during his career, it was hard to call it truly spectacular. After closer to twenty-four hours of continuous observation, including a somewhat off-label use of a charm normally used by Healers to cleanly relieve a patient of their bodily wastes (it was his best option that didn't involve leaving his post to visit the washroom), he'd be happy to never see wooden cups or blue flames again.

This didn't mean he was going anywhere any time soon. He had a comfortable-but-not-too-comfortable stool, a table with some food and tea to keep his energy up, and an important job to do. Until the Champions were officially chosen and the Goblet had gone out, he'd be standing watch to make sure nobody got entered by someone else. A second small table was set nearby with a quill, ink, and a stack of small parchment slips to make it easier for students to enter (and easier for Iruka to spot any attempted funny business). The Marauder's Map was hidden behind a list of eligible students from each school, and he checked over each slip to make sure the name on the slip matched the submitter's name on the Map and appeared on the list. Filius had even taught him a couple of charms to check for signs of tampering on the slips, and he cast them each time.

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**V**

After the two visiting schools' arrivals, everyone had congregated in the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. The Beauxbatons students, still clearly not warm enough even inside the castle, had elected to sit at the Ravenclaw table, whereas Durmstrang had joined Slytherin. Given the Scandinavian school's exclusion of Muggleborn students, it made some sense that they'd prefer the table of the one House with a similar policy. Four seats had been added to the Head Table flanking the Headmaster's throne-like chair; Madame Maxime had taken the one to Albus's immediate left and Highmaster Karkaroff his immediate right, while the other two remained empty at present.

The food served at the Feast had included a number of dishes from the visiting students' home countries, and Iruka made sure to sample as many as possible. He'd particularly enjoyed a French fish stew that Filius informed him was called "bouillabaisse". It also appeared to be a favorite of one of the French students, who turned a lot of male heads during a brief trip to the Gryffindor table to get the untouched tureen of stew there. Around that same time, two more wizards had slipped in through a side entrance to occupy the two seats at Albus's right; Iruka recognized Bartemius Crouch immediately, while the other could only be Ludovic Bagman, the Ministry's Head of Magical Games and Sports. The former mostly sat and ate in aloof silence, while the latter chattered boisterously with anyone who would respond.

Once the desserts had been cleared away, Albus had introduced the two newest guests before calling for Filch to bring out "the casket". The caretaker had emerged dressed in a very worn set of formalwear and carrying a bejeweled chest that looked centuries old. The Headmaster had continued to describe in broad terms what the Triwizard Tournament would entail, before opening the casket and withdrawing a crudely-carved wooden goblet filled with blue-white flames. After closing the casket once more and placing the Goblet on top, Dumbledore had explained how to enter.

"The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight," Albus had continued, "where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. A small table shall also be placed nearby with parchment, ink, and quills, for the sake of convenience. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Further, Adjunct Professor Iruka Umino will be standing watch from now until the Champions are chosen, and will be checking your slips to ensure that you are in fact submitting your own name without any attempts at tampering or the like." Iruka could see Crouch's habitually-severe expression darken somewhat, while Moody nodded approvingly.

After a stern warning about the binding nature of a submission to the Goblet, the students had been dismissed. The Goblet had then been set up in the entrance hall as promised, with the Age Line soon cast around it, and Iruka had begun his vigil. Several times throughout his watch, students had taken surreptitious (by their standards) glances, likely intending to make an approach while he was away. Various adults had checked in on him on occasion, both those on the Hogwarts staff and those visiting specifically for the Tournament. All of the visiting students had entered, as had a comparable number of Hogwarts students spread among the four Houses (though Gryffindor and Slytherin had more entrants than Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw). As each slip was placed into the Goblet of Fire, the flames within had briefly turned bright red and emitted a puff of sparks before settling down and returning to their blue-white color.

There'd been a few especially noteworthy incidents between then and now, of course. Karkaroff had paused in the midst of fawning over his famous student when he recognized Hogwarts' own celebrity student. That particular moment went from tense to extra-tense with a dash of awkwardness when Moody stepped in to intimidate the fair-weather Death Eater. "Never sat well with me," the retired Auror had commented to Iruka afterward, "him getting away clean just because he gave up a few names, most of which were no use anyway. Still, we got Rookwood caught thanks to that deal, which is better than _some_ of those scum..." His magical eye had pointedly whipped over to glare in the direction of Draco Malfoy.

During breakfast the next morning, as a crowd of undecided potential entrants and general spectators and speculators had milled around the entrance hall, Lee Jordan and the Weasley Twins came barreling down the stairs with wide, eager grins on their faces. They'd chatted a few moments with a group of mostly Fourth-Years including both their younger siblings, and since they weren't even bothering to keep their voices down Iruka caught something about them having taken a bit of Aging Potion, presumably in hopes of beating the Age Line. Knowing they'd be making their attempt and not certain whether it would work, the chuunin had calmly stepped over to stand between the twins and the stool upon which the Goblet rested on its casket.

When the Sixth-Year trio had turned and seen him standing there, they'd paused before turning back into a huddle, whispering between each other and casting glances his way. After a few moments, the three had separated once again and held up slips of parchment so that Iruka could clearly see that each bore the name of its holder with the word "Hogwarts" underneath. They'd then moved apart to stand at roughly equidistant points around a circle a few meters outside the Age Line, with Lee Jordan at the point directly behind Iruka, who'd stood directly in front of the Goblet with his arms crossed and a slight challenging smile.

At some unseen signal (presumably from Jordan), all three had charged full-pelt towards the Goblet, clearly figuring that Iruka wouldn't be able to stop them all before one managed to submit their name. A small part of the chuunin's mind noted that the twins' footfalls were in perfect sync, albeit mirrored; if he'd been teaching them as ninja, he'd have tipped them off later that pincer tactics might work better with one of them in the target's blind spot, partially hiding the sound of his approach in that of his brother. As it was, Iruka had tensed slightly, ready to show a bit of his speed if necessary.

It wasn't necessary. As soon as the twins had crossed the golden circle that marked the Age Line, a haze of glowing motes of the same color began to gather in front of each of them. Just as both had leapt towards the Goblet, one hand each stretched forward holding their slips and wild grins on their faces, their flight was halted in midair. Both had hung suspended, frozen in place while their grins started to slip and Iruka's own grin grew into a full-blown smirk. Then, with a loud sizzling sound, all three boys had been hurled back out of the circle to tumble onto the floor beyond. The chuckles that had already begun had grown into raucous laughter when, with three simultaneous popping sounds, all three boys had sprouted long, white beards.

The twins had stood up, slightly dazed, then joined the laughter when they saw each other's beards, while a chuckling Lee Jordan had made his way back to his ginger friends. Iruka had drawn his wand and, clearing his throat to get the boys' attention, used a quick spell to draw a large "7" in the air, which had prompted a fresh round of laughter from both the crowd and the newly-hirsute trio.

"Isn't that a tad harsh, Professor?" Albus had spoken as he stepped fully into the entrance hall. "It's true that their landing was a tad rough, but their form was excellent on the leap." The Headmaster's wand had risen, disgorging a ribbon that wove itself into an "8". He'd then addressed the three bewhiskered boys: "I did warn you. I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. Those beards are quite magnificent," he'd said, stroking his own rather similar facial hair, "particularly yours Messrs. Weasley. I would hardly begrudge you choosing to retain such impressively groomed specimens," he'd continued with a twinkle in his eyes, "though I will say that it takes some getting used to, particularly around mealtimes."

All three boys had laughingly bowed to their Headmaster, who dipped his own head in acknowledgement, before Fred and George each linked an elbow with Lee and the trio marched off toward the Hospital Wing.

When the Beauxbatons students all entered one after another before heading to breakfast, Iruka had felt a slight touch of the same influence he'd experienced from the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently one of the girls, presumably the one with long silvery-blonde hair, either was a Veela herself or had Veela heritage.

As evening was falling, Hagrid had entered alongside Madame Maxime ahead of the Beauxbatons contingent. The large man was wearing one of the more outlandish getups Iruka had seen since arriving in Britain (and he'd lived with Xeno Lovegood and worked for Albus Dumbledore!): The orange-and-yellow checked tie wasn't too bad, whereas the brown suit would have looked reasonable enough had it not been _hairy_. The hair on Hagrid's head, meanwhile, looked vaguely like Iruka imagined Moegi's would if she fell into a barrel of oil on a bad hair day - greasy and half-tangled and gathered up into two rough bunches. On top of all this, his entire head was dripping wet, with droplets of water running down the fur of his suit. Given his blushes and the starry-eyed way he was looking at Madame Maxime, this look was presumably Hagrid's best attempt at cleaning up. The Beauxbatons Headmistress was conversing cordially but, at least to Iruka's eye, not noticeably returning Hagrid's interest. Then again, Iruka didn't exactly have the most successful track record with romance, so he figured he'd reserve judgment for now.

Now, at last, _finally_ , Iruka sat comfortably at the staff table eating his second feast in as many days and eagerly looking forward to a shower and a good night's sleep. Like almost every shinobi, he'd done his share of all-nighters, most under conditions far less safe and pleasant than this one and often while already tired and having to run and/or fight the entire time; those were all over twenty years in the past, however, and his body and brain were reminding him that he wasn't exactly young any more.

The food disappeared, and the already electric atmosphere in the Great Hall grew even more so as everyone's anticipation neared its peak. Albus rarely had trouble getting people's attention, and with everyone so focused and excited he had every eye in the room on him before he'd even finished standing from his throne. His announcement that the Goblet was nearly ready to make its decision managed to somehow raise things _another_ notch, before a wave of his wand extinguished every candle in the room save those in the carved pumpkins floating around as Halloween decorations. In the resultant twilight, even the by-now-sick-of-flaming-cups Iruka had to admit that the Goblet of Fire looked particularly captivating.

Suddenly, the flames in the Goblet turned back to the same red hue they'd taken on when accepting a submission, again spitting sparks. With a soft * _whuff*_ sound that was nonetheless heard throughout much of the near-silent Great Hall, the scarlet flames leapt upwards briefly, disgorging a scorched scrap of parchment which Albus quickly Summoned into his hand. As the Goblet's flames returned to their usual shade, the long-bearded wizard held out the scrap to read it by the light they provided.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum." The Headmaster's announcement prompted a round of cheers, including a particularly loud one from Karkaroff. Krum himself seemed one of the least excited people in the room, slouching up towards the staff table before taking a right and heading into the side chamber where the champions were to receive their initial instructions.

A few seconds after the door had closed, another flare of red flames produced another slip with charred edges. "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Albus called to the room. This prompted the same young lady that Iruka had noticed that morning to rise and copy Krum's example. Unlike the Durmstrang students, who'd largely responded to their champion's selection with stoicism, those French students not chosen showed their disappointment openly, in some cases bursting into tears.

Once more the flames turned red, spitting out a third selection. "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" At this pronouncement, the entirety of the Hufflepuff table erupted into raucous celebration as the Sixth-Year stood to join his fellow champions. Iruka clapped heartily, too, glad to see some recognition for a House too often dismissed and derided as "leftovers" or "duffers". The cheers, stomping, dancing, and other jubilation lasted well past when the door closed behind the Hogwarts champion.

Finally, one the Hufflepuffs had settled back down, Albus spoke again. "Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

Dumbledore trailed off suddenly, looking at the floor to the right of his lectern. Following his employer's gaze, Iruka's breath caught in his throat. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but there on the stone directly between his own seat and the Hufflepuff table, was the unmistakable scrawl of fuuinjutsu script. The characters seemed to be slowly, painstakingly scribing themselves, eight evenly-spaced straight lines radiating out from a center point. Already the growing array was at least fifteen centimeters across.

Iruka stood, motioning to his nearby colleagues and the nearest 'Puffs. "Step back everyone, this is something from my homeland, hopefully just someone trying to reach me somehow..."

As the array's diameter passed the forty-centimeter mark, the spokes sprouted pairs of inward-curving branches. Mentally completing the circle those would form, the chuunin at last recognized it as some form of summoning array. It looked like, in a few seconds more, Hogwarts would have new company from the Elemental Nations.

The branches connected, forming a circle bisected at eighth-turn intervals by straight lines. There was a pulse of chakra that even a non-sensor like Iruka could feel, and a plume of smoke erupted from the center of the array...

* * *

**Defense Teacher Omake**

From: setokayba2n  
Teacher: Shimura Danz ō

Reason for Leaving: Caught giving strange tattoos to students

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm evil. I know.
> 
> Don't worry, this is not the arrival of some OP badass like Naruto or Sasuke or Kakashi, or some squad of ANBU or jounin. I've been planning this bit of plot since the very beginning, though it was only relatively recently (as of writing this chapter) that I decided to have the arrival happen at the Choosing of the Champions. Halloween's gotta be crazy, right?
> 
> Before you ask, no, I am not shipping Fleur with Iruka. I just figured that, given his canon preferences in food, a seafood stew would be something he'd probably enjoy. I don't know enough about French or Scandinavian cuisine, nor about Japanese palates, to guess at what else he would or wouldn't like.
> 
> The Svärdet, by the way, was a real ship of the Swedish navy lost in the Battle of Öland in 1676. In this story, wizards from Durmstrang faked the ship's destruction in order to steal it for their use as an impressive bit of transport to the next year's Triwizard Tournament. After all, why bother spending the time and money commissioning a big expensive ship when you can just steal one from the Muggles?


	6. Message in a Bottle

Given the excitement of the evening, the large amount of sweets many of the students had consumed, and the suddenness of the plume of smoke, it didn't really come as a surprise that the characteristic _poof_ of a Summoning was quickly joined by shrieks and cries of fright and startlement, not all of them from the children. Several staff members had drawn their wands, uncertain of what to expect.

After a few tense seconds, the smoke cleared to reveal a Toad about twenty centimeters tall; its skin was a tortoiseshell pattern in green and purple, and it wore a pair of maroon cloth sashes in an "X" over its torso. Tucked under the point on the Toad's back where the two sashes crossed was a small scroll with orange trim. That color, combined with a Summon with only one known contractor, set Iruka's heart racing with hope.

«Yo!» the Toad yelled, straight at Iruka, «Gamato, the super-awesome courier Toad, reporting for duty! Are you Umino Iruka?»

«That's me,» the chuunin replied with a growing smile, «did Naruto send you?»

«Yep!» At Gamato's reply, Iruka heard a gasp from the Ravenclaw table, and glanced over to see Luna's face split by a joyous grin. «Got a message here for ya from the boss,» the Toad jerked a webbed thumb at the scroll on his back, «but the short version is I can stick around for about an hour, then I'm headed home, so anything you gimme I can pass to the boss for ya! It's gotta be kinda small, though, 'cause I ain't got enough chakra this trip to bring anything big back with me. A scroll or somethin' would be fine, though!» He pulled out the scroll and held it up for Iruka to take.

Meanwhile, the reactions around the room were... mixed. Some - such as Albus and Filius, Madame Maxime, and quite a few Ravenclaws - were looking on in curiosity and fascination. Others (Crouch, Snape, Karkaroff, much of Slytherin) glared at Gamato in disgust or hostility. Moody, Minerva, and a fair number of nearby Hufflepuffs wore looks of caution and suspicion, Moody's magical eye repeatedly looking between Iruka and the Toad. The most prevalent response, though, was one of confusion.

For his part, Iruka casually vaulted the staff table, crouching to retrieve the scroll while pulling another from his robes. «Here,» he said, «this is a log I've been keeping. Just let me read Naruto's message before you go back, in case he's asked for anything I haven't already included.» Gamato nodded, taking the proffered scroll, while Iruka stood and opened the Hokage's message. It was in code, of course, but one of the low-security ones that'd been in use for years and was mostly just used to thwart casual snooping, so to someone that'd spent decades working administrative tasks it wasn't really any harder to read than unencoded text:

> Iruka-sensei,
> 
> If you're reading this, then we finally succeeded! Ever since you disappeared (and Boruto is really, REALLY sorry for that, by the way) I've had people trying to figure out what happened. The best theory they've got is that you got transported somewhere like a Summoning realm or something, so they came up with a way to send a Summon along the same path, more or less. Assuming everything worked like they expect it to, Gamato should have come out right near you, and he should be able to stick around for about an hour and bring back up to maybe a kilo of mass with him. Given the fact that this much took enough chakra to wipe ME out for a few days, you can understand why it's so limited - we didn't want to commit the resources to bring a person back until we were sure it would work, so this is more a test than anything else. Just don't ask me how it all worked; you know theory's never exactly been my strongest subject.
> 
> But yeah, I put Gai in charge of the team. I doubt he understands much more of what they're saying than I do (he just doesn't understand it LOUDER), but he's hard to beat in terms of motivating people, and he's kept any of the researchers from dominating things or letting their egos get out of hand (getting their ass kicked by a maimed retiree in a wheelchair keeps 'em pretty humble). Between you and me, it also gives Gai something more involved and productive to do than just occasionally advising taijutsu students, and he's really been relishing the challenge.
> 
> Anyway, send any reply you can back with Gamato, even if it's just a verbal message. Let us know where you are, how you're doing, what's been happening at your end, all that stuff. Also, tell me whether you want to come home ASAP or stay put for a while, so I know how much chakra to use next time. Right, next time - it'll take about a month to prep Gamato's next trip, two if he's bringing you back with him, so you'll know when to be ready.
> 
> We've included some storage seals full of every type of supplies we thought you might need, from rations and camping gear to weapons and trapping supplies to regular old writing materials (those are in the first seal, by the way, in case you need them to write a reply - Shikamaru's idea). If there's anything we missed or that you'd like more of than we sent, let us know in your message back. The second seal is some more messages from people, and some accounts of what's happened here since the incident at the Academy.
> 
> Take care of yourself, and remember we're all thinking of you!
> 
> -Uzumaki Naruto

Iruka blinked back tears at the message of support from his former student, before shaking himself and perusing the remainder of the scroll. As the letter indicated, it held a series of storage seals, each with a label beside it to indicate its contents. Given the fact that the label «Reading Material» was in the Sixth's handwriting, he figured he'd hold off opening that one unless he was feeling particularly desperate. Overall, it was indeed a very comprehensive set of supplies, even including some money in case wherever he was accepted ryo and he needed emergency funds.

Opening the first storage seal, he did indeed find a blank scroll with a brush and inkpot, along with a pad of notepaper with a pencil. Figuring that speed would be more useful than calligraphy, he re-sealed everything but the pad and pencil before turning to Gamato. «I'd like to write a note to go with my scroll, if that's not too much for you to take back.»

«Eh,» the Toad said dismissively,«a couple grams of paper ain't gonna be a problem. If you wanted to add a second scroll, that might be a bit much, but a note'll be fine.» He gave what was probably the first batrachian shrug most in the Great Hall had ever seen. Thinking of the hundreds of onlookers reminded Iruka that they were still in public and interrupting a fairly important ceremony. The three champions were probably getting sick of waiting...

"Sorry about that, everyone," Iruka sheepishly addressed the Hall, "it's just that this is the first I've heard from my home country since I came to Britain. We'll get out of your way and let you get back to celebrating." Outside of S.E.N., most of the students simply responded with blank stares and silence. Hermione and Neville just rolled their eyes, while Harry, Luna, and Ginny were trying to hide their snickering. He turned back to Gamato. «Could you please follow me? I'd like to take this to my office - we're sort of interrupting a ceremony here.»

«Lead the way,» came the cheerful response.

Iruka nodded and headed for the doors, Gamato hopping along behind him as every head (save theirs) in the Great Hall turned to track the strange giant (by their standards) talking toad.

«So where are we, anyway?» Gamato asked once they were out into the entrance hall, «I've never heard of a building like this, everybody's dressed in robes, and you were talking some strange language back there.»

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the chuunin replied, then gave a rough translation of the name, «in Scotland, on the island of Great Britain, part of the United Kingdom. The continent is called Europe, on the planet Earth which as far as I can tell is in some kind of alternate dimension.»

«Over my head, to be honest,» the Toad said, «but the whole 'other world' thing kinda makes sense with how weird the trip here felt.»

After a couple minutes worth of walking while explaining their surroundings, man and Toad were safely ensconced in the former's office. «Now,» Iruka said, «just let me write a note to go with that scroll...»

> Hokage-sama:
> 
> I had almost given up hope of ever having contact with home again, so Gamato's arrival was a small miracle for me - not exactly new territory for you, I know. Speaking of typical Naruto, you happened to send him right at the end of a big ceremony at the school I'm teaching at, in front of all the staff and students plus some international guests. Since they'd never seen a Summoning before, or any ninjutsu for that matter (my report explains that bit, don't worry), bafflement and confusion were the general result. Like I said, typical Naruto.
> 
> The scroll I sent back with Gamato has an explanation of where I've ended up, plus a log of everything I've done and experienced. I also sealed in a bunch of books and items that might be of use, though a lot of the books are in a language nobody in Konoha speaks, so I've included books on the language as well. The short version is that I've ended up in a different world somehow, one that's very different from home, and as part of making a living while looking for a way back I've ended up teaching at a school for children who use real, honest magic. If you think that's strange, wait till you read the report...
> 
> As far as the supplies go, I'm pretty well stocked on most things, though having more shuriken and kunai than I was carrying at the Academy might come in handy - if I run into trouble again, I won't have to worry so much about husbanding my supply. Actually, since I've told a few people here about Konoha, could you send some photos of the village, the Hokage Monument, the Academy, Ichiraku's, and the like? Maybe throw in some photos of people while you're at it, so my students can put faces to the names they've heard stories about?
> 
> While I would absolutely love to see Konoha and everybody there again ASAP, I've made a commitment that if a way home became available, I would first teach through the end of the current school year if possible. That school year only started a couple months ago, so unless there's only some narrow window of opportunity or an urgent need for me to come back, I would prefer to follow through on my promise and not leave my students here hanging mid-term.
> 
> Speaking of students, I think you'd really like the small group I've been teaching about chakra and jutsu. One of them in particular, well, in terms of personality and personal history, he's almost like a cross between you and Sasuke. Fourteen years old and he's already saved my life twice despite being a civilian - you'll understand more when you read the report.
> 
> This world is strange and insane and wonderful and terrifying, and I hope that I'll be able to use what I've learned here to open a connection so that people back home can share it eventually.
> 
> Let me know in your next message if there's anything you want more information on or more samples of, and I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Umino Iruka
> 
> P.S. - Sorry for the formal opening, but I figured it was best to keep this at least slightly official.

Giving his missive a last once-over, Iruka nodded, before tearing the pages from the pad, folding them, and helping Gamato secure them in his harness with the scroll. "That should be it," he said, "give everyone back home my best for me?" Gamato nodded, have a cheeky salute, then disappeared in another puff of smoke.

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

The next time Iruka was among the students was the following morning, and it didn't take a shinobi to notice the 'surreptitious' glances and 'subtle' whispering. The word "toad" featured prominently in the whispers.

As he took his accustomed seat at the staff table for breakfast, he was almost immediately accosted by an especially-inquisitive Bathsheda Babbling. "So what was with that gigantic talking toad last night?"

Iruka smiled, noticing that several of his fellow Professors and a lot of nearby students were unabashedly listening in. "His name was Gamato, apparently. One of my former students, now the leader of my home village, is able to summon Toads to assist him in various ways, and all of them are at least as smart as a human and able to speak like one. As to that one last night being gigantic," he chuckled, "he was actually pretty small. Some of the Toad summons are so big they wouldn't even fit in this Hall, and I'm not just talking about fitting through the doors. Anyway, somehow the folks back home figured out a way to send one of those Toad summons directly to me to act as a messenger."

"Ah!" her face brightened, "So that's what that scroll was? A letter from home?"

The chuunin nodded. "And some supplies in storage seals, in case I was living rough. The scroll I sent back was basically a journal of what I've experienced here, plus some books and the like to help them understand. I wish I could see their faces when they read about flying broomsticks!" That prompted a round of laughter among those listening.

Even if the quasi-eavesdropping Hufflepuffs passed along what they'd heard, Iruka knew he'd still be fielding questions at the next Sealing class or two. Unfortunately for any curious student, he'd already shared all he was really comfortable revealing on the subject.

After the meal, Albus pulled Iruka aside. "I take it that this resumption of contact means you will likely be leaving us at the end of this school year?"

"Most likely," Iruka confirmed, "and I'd probably be gone for some time. You recall how Pandora and I worked out an adaptation of her project that could connect our two countries?" He spoke obliquely, conscious of the fact that they weren't in a secure location. "I'd need to find somewhere to put the transport circle, then do all the seals, runes, and spells to create it, followed by charging it up. The first step would probably go pretty quickly - I'm sure our government would love to have access to the new knowledge and resources that trade with Britain could bring. Laying the circle in would take weeks or months, depending on how much tweaking and adjustment it ended up needing. Charging, well, I honestly don't know how long that would take - in a magic-rich location like Hogwarts, it would probably take seconds at most, but I suspect that Konoha might not have as strong a magical environment."

"Regardless," he continued, "I'd do my best to reestablish contact as soon as safely possible. Both our countries could benefit a lot from an exchange program, and more personally I've got people in both places who I care deeply about."

Albus smiled. "Well then, we will just have to do what we can to ensure that your journey home, whenever it may come, is safe, and that you are as prepared as we can make you to create the bridge between our two nations. If you can give me a list of your requirements, I shall secure a location for you to begin preparing this end of the connection."

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Being a Sunday, that day also held a weekend S.E.N. meeting-slash-training-session, and the five students were all visibly holding back their questions. Luna in particular seemed to be almost vibrating in place, while Hermione kept opening her mouth to begin the interrogation, only to close it again with a determined look on her face.

"I'm sure you're all wondering about last night," Iruka began, "though Luna at least was able to hear what Gamato was saying. The short version is that Naruto and Konoha have found a way to contact me, and to eventually retrieve me." The looks on their faces were mixes of joy and sadness, though the balance fell in different places for each of them, from mostly joyful in Luna to mostly sad and worried in Harry. "That said, unless for some reason I _have_ to go back immediately at some point, I'll be staying here through the end of this school year, maybe a bit longer. Also, even when I do leave, there's a strong chance that I'll be able to visit Britain again eventually, and hopefully even bring some friends from back home with me, maybe take you guys to see Konoha." The last statement definitely brightened all of their expressions.

"So you're not- I mean, you won't..." Harry asked tentatively. He didn't have to say it out loud for his teacher to hear the words "abandon me" at the end.

Iruka smiled gently. "Never. Call me greedy, but I want to have _all_ my students and friends, from _both_ worlds." Harry gave a relieved smile at that, while Luna was simply beaming.

Hermione raised her hand and asked, "Sensei, can you tell us _how_ they managed to send Gamato here? I mean, they'd have to find you somehow, or maybe they just followed the path you took, but that would have sent him to the Lovegoods' house, and-"

"Breathe, Hermione," Iruka chuckled. "Naruto's letter didn't have much in the way of details, so I don't really know how they pulled it off. To be honest, even if they'd sent a complete report on the method, it would probably be over my head - even with all the research I've done since coming to Britain, time-space jutsu aren't exactly my strong suit. I do know that whatever their method was, it must take an insane amount of chakra, since Naruto said it left _him_ drained."

Neville gaped. "But you said he had way more chakra than anybody else in the Elemental Nations, plus being a jinchuuriki and a sage..."

Iruka nodded. "I've never known _anything_ to tire Naruto out for more than a day, and he said this had him tired for three. Best guess, whatever it is has to use chakra from a single source, which would mean he couldn't use senjutsu or Kurama's chakra, let alone just having other people pitch in." This led into a discussion of chakra theory that ended up running through much of that day's training.

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Iruka had been surprised when that Sunday morning's Daily Prophet hadn't mentioned Gamato's interruption of the Choosing of the Champions at all in their coverage of the ceremony. Reading Monday's paper led him to figure that Crouch and Bagman hadn't passed along that little tidbit to the media, and thus it hadn't been until after press time that the Prophet had gotten wind of Iruka's visitor: _STRANGE CREATURE INTERRUPTS TRIWIZARD CEREMONY_

The article that followed was mostly composed of rumor and insinuation, but it did get a few facts right: It had the timing of Gamato's appearance correct, though his arrival was described as an explosion (and, of course, linked with Iruka and fuuinjutsu); they noted Gamato as a large, colorful, talking toad, but the details of his size and appearance were wrong and his conversation with Iruka was described as " _ominous speech in a strange and inhuman tongue_ "; his following a sheepish Iruka from the Hall was written up as Iruka " _imperiously commanding the beast_ ". Checking the by-line revealed that, unless the unregistered beetle Animagus was using a pen name, the Prophet had found someone else to handle unsubstantiated character assassination and scandal mongering. It was probably a different writer; Skeeter's work tended to be a bit more subtle in its insinuations, with a more compelling dramatic flair to really engage (and enrage) the reader.

Though he briefly considered offering Skeeter an interview to set the record straight, Iruka was much more inclined to see if the whole thing would just blow over and be forgotten about. Deliberately drawing attention wasn't usually in the playbook for (most) shinobi, and there was also the consideration that the interviewer wouldn't be particularly inclined towards favorable interpretations given his part in exposing her secret to Dumbledore.

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

About a third of the way into the first class period on Monday morning, Iruka got a knock on his office door. Opening it with a flick of his wand (and frowning inwardly at how lazy magic allowed him to be), he found Amos Diggory of all people outside. "Mister Diggory? What brings you here?"

"Official business I'm afraid, Professor; reports of an unidentified magical creature showing up at Hogwarts, wouldn't look good for my department if we _didn't_ look into it." The wizard was 'subtly' glancing around into Iruka's office, presumably looking for Gamato.

"Of course, of course," Iruka replied, "come on in. He's already gone back - he could only stay for around an hour, tops - but I'll be happy to answer your questions. Tea?"

"Don't mind if I do."

Soon enough the two were seated across from each other, cups of tea on the desk between them. Iruka had elected to use the chair behind his desk, just in case he needed a slight edge in the conversation. "So," he ventured, "why don't I give you a brief overview of things, then you can ask questions about anything that you need further clarification on?"

Diggory nodded, pulling a parchment and quill from his robes, setting them up to record after casting a quick **Tempus**. He started out by reciting some standard-sounding record-keeping items - date, time, location, and participants. "Interview in regards to the unidentified magical creature which appeared at Hogwarts on thirty-first October. Professor Umino will begin by describing the events and creature in question."

At the wizard's 'go ahead' gesture, Iruka began. "It was just at the end of the Choosing of the Champions ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament. Headmaster Dumbledore was the first to notice, and drew my attention to, a sealing array beginning to form seemingly-spontaneously on the floor of the platform in the Great Hall upon which the staff table rests, directly in front of my seat. I should note here that several years ago an accident transported me from my home country of Hi no Kuni to Britain, and I have been searching unsuccessfully since then for a means of returning to or contacting my home. Anyway, I realized that this seal was almost certainly an attempt by people back home to reach me in some way, and urged those nearby to keep their distance in case whatever my countrymen were doing proved dangerous."

"The seal that formed looked like some type of Summoning array - a part of a method certain people can use to call various types of creatures or beings to aid them. Once it completed, it erupted with smoke as is typical of a completed Summoning technique, disgorging a Toad courier that gave his name as Gamato. The leader of my village, a good friend and former student of mine, is the only person I know of that is able to summon Toads, so this was obviously a good sign. Gamato carried with him a scroll containing both a letter from my village leader and storage seals filled with various supplies in case I was living rough and needed resupply. I led him here to my office in order to stop disrupting the ceremony, then gave him a note to take back with him along with a journal of my experiences and observations here in Britain. After that, he went back."

"In case you were wondering," Iruka continued, "the 'strange inhuman tongue' as the Prophet called it was Japanese, my native language. Gamato is a member of the Toad clan of summons. The Toads live on Mount Myouboku, a location not generally accessible except by Summoning or similar methods. All but the youngest can speak like a human, and are of comparable intelligence. Some stop growing at around Gamato's size, around..." he did the mental conversion, "eight inches tall, while others continue to grow and can reach the size of a large building." This was technically true, as buildings could get _very_ big. "On vary rare occasions, someone worthy is allowed to sign their contract, enabling that individual to summon Toads to help them. As I said, the only living Toad Summoner currently is my village's leader, the Seventh Hokage."

Diggory nodded. "And what do these Toads actually _do_ when summoned?"

"Different tasks," the chuunin replied, "depending on the Toad - the Summoner chooses who to call once they've mastered the technique. Some serve as messengers, couriers, or scouts; others can provide transportation. In dire circumstances, certain Toads can be called to help in battle: When I was a child, our village was attacked by a powerful, dangerous creature, and our leader at the time Summoned one of the Toads' most powerful warriors to help him protect the village."

"And you?" the wizard asked, "Can you summon such creatures?"

Iruka shook his head. "Summoning contracts are rare and hard to access, and even if I'd been able to sign one I don't really have the power to call anything spectacular. It also wasn't really something I expected to need - I'm a teacher that sometimes moonlit in the exciting world of administrative work. Of course, landing here in Britain having access to a messenger Summon might have made contacting home a lot easier, but this wasn't exactly a planned trip."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Professor," Diggory said. "Interview ends." Once the quill stopped scratching, he grabbed it and the parchment and put them back away. "Everything seems to be in order, so unless something unexpected comes up this should be the end of it, though we'd obviously prefer to have an expert examine and catalogue this toad should the opportunity arise."

"We'll see what happens," Iruka replied.

* * *

**Omake:**   
**Based upon my wife's mis-hearing of my mentioning Flippy a while back...**

«Now,» Iruka said, «just let me write a note to go with that scroll...»

An unfamiliar House-Elf appeared with their characteristic crack. "You looks like you is writing a letter. Cans Clippy help?"

**Defense Teacher Omake:**

From: Just_Will on AO3  
Teacher: Harry Potter  
Reason for Leaving: The rest of the staff realize he hasn't graduated yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am borrowing a convention from another fic and capitalizing the word "Toad" when referring to a Summon.
> 
> As far as why the Prophet didn't learn about Gamato's arrival in time for their article about the Choosing of the Champions, that's simply because Bagman and Crouch didn't tell them. In canon, Harry's selection as a fourth Champion was part of the Tournament, and in fact brought it greater attention and prestige, so Bagman (and whoever had Crouch under Imperius) were fine with telling the Prophet. Here, Gamato is an interruption and a potential distraction - the Ministry doesn't want its big event overshadowed by something else, nor do they want to talk about how it was interrupted or otherwise less than absolutely perfect.
> 
> For the scene where Diggory interviews Iruka, I'd originally written out the whole bureaucratic spiel at the beginning, only to realize that it was boring and wordy and irrelevant, so I cut it out in favor of a summary. This was after I'd spent several minutes digging through various versions of Hogwarts timetables to figure out when first period started and ended. Oops.


	7. Bread and Circuses

The next three weeks practically flew by. There'd been one more Tournament-related ceremony, the Weighing of the Wands, in which the wandmaker from Diagon Alley had inspected the three champions' foci to ensure all three were in working order. Though he hadn't had any reason to want to be there, it was still a bit insulting when Iruka was informed by Bartemius Crouch that he was specifically prohibited from attending. Apparently someone didn't want any more surprises.

His correspondence with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black continued. Work had officially begun on the old Black family townhouse in London, but even just rendering it safe was slow going. There had been half a dozen hazards in the entryway alone, from the horrific and lethal down to an umbrella stand jinxed to trip those passing by. The cursebreakers' concentration wasn't helped by the portrait of Walburga Black (Sirius's mother) that hung at the base of the stairs and screamed invective at anyone and everyone that caught her attention. Given that she'd been the last living resident of the house outside her house-elf, it went a long way towards explaining why the place was in its current state.

After an S.E.N. meeting in which his three fourth-year students had discussed Blast-Ended Skrewts, Iruka had sighed and made his way down to Hagrid's hut. The large gamekeeper was presently working on preparing his garden for the rapidly-approaching winter, pulling out the dying plants to throw into the compost heap, while making sure that the various root vegetables were properly bedded in to keep well in colder weather.

"So, Hagrid," Iruka greeted as he approached the Creatures Professor, "I hear you've got something very... novel that you're using with the fourth-year class?"

"Tha's right!" Hagrid beamed proudly, "Blast-Ended Skrewts, bred 'em m'self! Figured it'd be good fer the kids to get some experience learnin' about how to handle somethin' nobody's seen before. Plus it lets 'em work at raisin' somethin' up, rather than jus' workin' with grown ones."

It took the chuunin some effort not to palm his face. "Hagrid, wouldn't that kind of lesson, especially working with unknown creatures, be better-suited for your N.E.W.T.-level students? Even then, it'd be best to give them something that at least _you_ know about, so that neither the students nor the creatures end up harmed because of a student's ignorance. From what you've said, you've got fourth-years working with a completely new species, an unknown creature that could present _unknown dangers_ to the children."

The kindly titan waved off Iruka's concerns. "The Skrewts aren' dangerous or nothin', jus' a little rambunctious. Nothin' ter worry about."

Iruka sighed. "We've talked about this Hagrid, last summer when you were preparing your lessons. Your students aren't anywhere near as large or strong or durable as you are; something that might not even draw blood on you could cause a serious gash on one of them. Creatures you would call 'cute' and 'playful' are what everyone else calls 'apex predators'. Just think for a minute about what their teeth and claws and the like are used for in the wild, then remember that your students are _children_ , the _young of the species_ , and consider what many predators target when they can." He hated doing this to the man, but unfortunately Hagrid had the kind of naïveté in which, because he had so little malice within himself, it was hard for him to realize that other people or creatures might not be so pure nor as gentle.

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows came together as he thought hard for a few moments, before his beetle-black eyes widened in horror. Seeing the large knees start to wobble, Iruka quickly snapped off a Summoning Charm to bring over a Hagrid-proportioned wooden stool from near the side of the hut, allowing the large man to sit. "I... I never though' of it like that," he said quietly. "I guess I might've been puttin' the students a' risk without knowin' it. I'll talk ter Professor Dumbledore, get his advice on fixin' my lessons."

The chuunin nodded sympathetically. "That sounds like a good idea. You could also see if you can get your hands on Professor Kettleburn's old lesson plans, to see how he did it, and maybe look into what creatures are covered on O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. For now, at least, it'd probably be best if you handled the Skrewts yourself."

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Iruka found himself entering the Hospital Wing, after a bit of overheard gossip had informed him that Hermione had been hexed during an altercation between classes. He was immediately suspicious when he saw how happy Hermione was, not the state one would expect from someone that'd just been hexed into the infirmary. There was also, unless he was mistaken, a hint of pride in her grin - a grin in which her teeth were neat and even.

"I hear there was a bit of an incident earlier," he said as he approached her, "could you tell me what happened?"

Hermione nodded. "We were outside the Potions classroom, waiting for the door to open," she began, using the same tone of voice she would answering a question in class. "Malfoy started trying to insult Harry, Neville, and me, just his usual tripe. It wasn't pleasant, obviously, and I could tell Harry in particular was starting to get really angry, but we kept our cool. As usual, like you taught us, we ignored him. Not reacting the way he was hoping frustrated Malfoy, and seeing that does make it easier to laugh off whatever he's saying. It probably didn't help that Harry and Neville got in a few jabs back, and got a lot of the Gryffindors and even a couple Slytherins laughing at Malfoy. He got really angry, pulled out his wand, and cast a Tooth-Growing Hex at Harry. Harry dodged and, well..."

"And you, recognizing the hex and what it did, let it hit you?" The sheepish look on her face was all the answer Iruka needed. "I know you said before that other children would tease you about your teeth, but did you really have to get yourself hexed over it?"

Now the sheepish look was augmented by a blush, and tinged with a hint of shame. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't do something cosmetic like that without my parents' permission, and they wanted to try non-magical methods before resorting to magic."

"So when you realized what Malfoy was casting, you saw it as an opportunity to work around those restrictions," he reasoned. "Quick thinking, I'll give you that, but I'm going to ask you to write to your parents and explain what happened, what you did, and why. Whether you do that or not, I'll be writing them myself at the end of the week. They deserve to know about this, and I'd like their side on why they were refusing permission to get your teeth fixed magically, to understand whether they had valid concerns or if they were being a bit unreasonable. As it stands, while I won't say that what you did was out-and-out wrong, it certainly wasn't right either."

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

The adult Grangers' reply made things clearer. Part of their rationale, Wendell admitted, had probably been their own professional pride, something Iruka had expected. They also, however, were concerned about what exactly the long-term effects of magical tooth modification would be. Non-magical medical treatments, at least in some countries, were required to pass a rigorous and often extremely long and expensive process of proving that they were safe and effective, with any potential side-effects thoroughly documented. The goal, quite a logical one Iruka thought, was to let both patients and those treating them make fully-informed decisions about whether the risks of a treatment were outweighed by the benefits.

Knowing in excruciating detail the numerous ways things could go wrong in the human mouth, neither dentist was willing to approve any cosmetic work unless they could be assured that it wouldn't cause problems down the line. Monica specifically cited the concern that simply shrinking a tooth would also shrink the blood vessels that fed its living center, possibly to the point where they wouldn't function properly any longer. On top of that, many spells only lasted for a finite period of time, and what would happen if Hermione's front teeth suddenly grew back to their previous size? With so little information available to them about the potential risks and side-effects of magical healing, both parents greatly preferred a method that they _knew_ would work and be safe.

Their letter also informed him that they'd sent a similar explanation in their reply to Hermione, something both adults acknowledged that they should have given several years prior. In the end, neither parents nor child had handled things perfectly, but a lesson had hopefully been learned about open communication.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

After lunch on November twenty-fourth, Iruka joined the rest of those at Hogwarts in trooping down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where an arena of sorts had been set up. Sets of recently-constructed stands flanked an enclosure in which the First Task would take place. Its floor was bare earth, with a few boulders of varying sizes scattered about, and a ring of smoother stones surrounding the shallow pit that would serve as the nests for the mother dragons the champions would be facing. Said dragons would be brought in and removed, along with their clutches, at one end of the arena, whereas the other end held a pair of tents. One of them was the medical tent, in which Madam Pomfrey had already set up everything she might need to treat a person injured by a dragon; the second tent was positioned so that it, along with the surrounding trees, would effectively block any sight of the arena for someone approaching from the castle. Of course, this concealment was helped along by a few charms as well.

Everyone, bar the champions and those responsible for handling the dragons and/or stepping in if things went too far wrong, was now seated in the stands. Iruka himself was part of the emergency-response group, and was standing Disillusioned just inside the edge of the arena but safely out of the range of any of the dragons' flaming breath.

Angry roars heralded the group of dragon-handlers bringing in the first dragon, her eggs, and the golden egg that the first contestant would be asked to retrieve. The Swedish Short-Snout had silvery-blue scales, and her occasional blasts of flame were a brilliant blue that showed their tremendous heat. Seeing dragonfire for the first time, Iruka understood why Albus had been clearly just humoring him about preparing hidden reserves of water under the stands to supply water jutsu - flames that fast and hot could fatally burn someone before he'd even finished his hand-seals.

Bagman announced Cedric Diggory as the first champion to make an attempt. The popular Hufflepuff was visibly terrified, and desperately trying to come up with some way to accomplish his task. He wisely stayed well out of the Short-Snout's reach and range as he was thinking, though the slowly-growing grumbles of the crowd showed that at least some of the spectators were less than pleased at this prudent caution.

After a couple minutes of contemplation, Diggory's face firmed. With a look of resolve and intense concentration, he raised his wand not towards the dragon, but to her side a ways. A complex little gesture later, and one of the rocks well away from him turned into a large dog that started running around the arena's edge, barking loudly. Between the human standing quietly and the dog moving and making noise, it was no surprise that the Short-Snout deemed the latter to be the more immediate issue and turned to face it.

It took a while for the transfigured dog, quietly directed by the Hufflepuff's wand, to begin to draw the mother dragon off her nest. Slowly, often glancing back at her eggs, she edged towards the canine pest. Once he deemed her far enough, Diggory began cautiously working his way closer to his target. About three-quarters of the way there, he broke into a mad dash; presumably he was aiming to spend as little time as possible in the danger zone, or maybe the tension had overridden his patience. Whatever the reason, it turned out to be the wrong play, as his rapid movement towards her nest almost instantly drew the Short-Snout's attention. Luckily, she had moved far enough that he had time to almost completely dodge the blast of flames she sent his way just as he was grabbing the golden egg. Even so, as he fled full-speed for the tents and the dragon-handlers moved in to subdue the raging dragon, Iruka could see some nasty burns. His injuries, plus the amount of time he'd taken, were counted against him by the judges, though he did get credit for a skilled bit of transfiguration. Karkaroff, notably, gave a him a score of only two out of ten, far lower than the rest of the panel.

Several minutes of what looked like some very taxing and dangerous work by the dragon-handlers later, it was a Welsh Green hunching protectively over her eggs in the arena. Fleur Delacour emerged from the tent to face it, her posture showing a mix of apprehension and determination. She lifted her wand towards the dragon, beginning to move it in large, lazy sweeps through some kind of intricate pattern while chanting an incantation that sounded almost musical. Slowly, painstakingly, the wary beast began to relax, her eyelids drooping as she fell into some sort of trance or outright sleep atop her nest.

Given what Iruka knew about dragons, Delacour had gotten incredibly lucky regarding her dragon breed - Welsh Greens were some of the least aggressive dragons, often preferring to avoid confrontations. That more relaxed nature certainly made the French champion's strategy more effective. Still, it was impressive that she'd managed to affect such a powerful and magic-resistant creature, and a smart idea to adopt a strategy that likely took advantage of her Veela heritage.

Unfortunately, even the best of plans can have their hiccups. As Delacour was quietly making her exit after extracting the golden egg, her dragon _snored_. It would have been purely hilarious to see such a majestic and fearsome beast snoring like a big, sleeping dog, had it not been for the long, narrow stream of fire that emerged as a result. Thankfully, it only caught the hem of the young witch's skirt, and she quickly put out the flames with a jet of water from her wand, but it still ended up costing her a few points. Even so, her level-headedness throughout the task combined with her remarkable charm work led to a much higher score than Diggory. Again, the Durmstrang Highmaster gave an unreasonably low score.

The third mother dragon was brought in, this one a Chinese Fireball. The reason for the breed's name was immediately apparent, as she shot mushroom-shaped bursts of flame around the arena in her agitation. Viktor Krum stepped out, and after sizing his opponent up for a few moments went straight on the attack, hurling spells at the dragon's face. His target seemed to be her eyes, one of the few vulnerable points on a dragon's body. After a few attempts, he managed to land a Conjunctivitis Curse, blinding the beast, which thrashed around in pain and rage, incidentally trampling several of her own eggs.

While the power and accuracy of the curse was nothing to scoff at, Iruka was distinctly unimpressed by Krum's strategy and downright angry at the needless destruction of the young of a protected species. This latter offense was partly due to the organizers' poor planning, but even so such a directly combative approach was not something the chuunin felt worthy of praise. It would seem, however, that the judges felt differently: Krum was given the highest score, due to a combination of speed, spectacle, and his Highmaster's favoritism (he of course gave his prized student a perfect ten).

All told, then, the scores were Krum 34, Delacour 31, Diggory 30. Each champion now had a golden egg that would give them a clue about the nature of the Second Task, which would take place in three months' time.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

A few days later, Iruka was reading up on tricks for making maximum use of limited magic when he felt a slight tingle of chakra, and glanced up from his book to find a summoning array spreading across his office floor. He pulled out the pad and pencil that had accompanied the first message from home, along with a scroll containing his log of the past month.

With a puff of smoke, Hogwarts' occupants again included a Toad. «Yo!» Gamato greeted as before, «Got another message for ya!»

«Nice to see you again, Gamato,» Iruka smiled pleasantly, «I've got an update to my report here, just let me see if there's anything in Naruto's message I should include a reply to.» He took the proffered scroll from his visitor's webbed grasp, and opened it up.

> _Hey Iruka-sensei!_
> 
> _Congratulations, I'm pretty sure you got a record number of "troublesome"s out of Shikamaru for a single mission report. Oh, right, I'm classing your little trip as an extended B-Rank mission, with bonuses for some of the more interesting stuff you've sent back. And speaking of sending things back, you_ have _to send a broom or two in your next report if you can. Please? I know_ I _can fly, but something like that is just way too awesome not to share with people, even if it didn't have some useful applications. The big flying machines also sound interesting, maybe a new way to let civilians travel long distances - I've already got R &D looking at those and some of the other tech stuff you sent along._
> 
> _Oh yeah, and expect a hug from Sakura when you get back for sending those medical potions. A few of them would totally be in the standard first-aid kit for our ninja already if we had enough to do that with. Any more you can send, you can bet they'll see good use._
> 
> _That place you're at sounds really weird, but in a fun and interesting way, y'know? Real magic, huge dragons, old castles - I'm seriously jealous, and not just because I've got a half-meter stack of paperwork waiting for me. I thought these computers were supposed to cut that crap down?_
> 
> _That Voldemort guy sounds like a lame Orochimaru knockoff. Heh, wonder what'd happen if we dropped 'em both in a room - bet it'd be something we could sell tickets for, wouldn't you say?_
> 
> _So, you've got a crop of students there, huh? By the way, I'm totally backing your decision to train those kids - they sound cool and I hope I get to meet them at some point. I'll especially want to thank that Harry kid; he's saved you more times than I have by now! You were right about how eerie it is, him being kinda like a cross between me and Sasuke. Sasuke read that part of the report too. He said, and I quote, "Hn."_
> 
> _A~nd now he's glaring at me._
> 
> ~~_Seriously, dude, stop reading over my shoulder. I don't care that you're doing it from across the room, it's still creepy._ ~~
> 
> _Anyway, I've included copies of a lot of the basic scrolls from the Academy library - theory, chakra usage, the real fundamentals-type stuff that I totally failed at most of the time. We didn't really have time to translate it all, especially since all of about five people here can read a usable amount of English so far, but maybe they'll help you with your little pre-genin team. I also got some photos together like you asked for, plus a couple of the basic history and geography textbooks in case those'd help._
> 
> _I'll send Gamato back in another month-ish, same deal as this time. Can't abandon your students, after all - what would Kakashi say?_
> 
> _Best wishes from everyone here,_
> 
> _Naruto_

Seeing that there wasn't really anything that needed a specific reply, Iruka just passed his report scroll over to Gamato, already pondering what brooms to get and planning to insist that someone have a camera handy for the first tests...

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

As November drew to a close, Iruka received another odd visitor in his office. Like Gamato, this one was green and had large eyes; unlike Gamato, he was entirely green and native to this reality. This visitor was easily the most oddly-dressed house-elf the chuunin had seen, not that he'd seen all that many: Aside from a single black sock that showed clear signs of heavy wear and repeated mending, he mostly wore an ill-fitting and somewhat shabby black Muggle-style suit with white dress shirt, sized for a human child that was slightly taller and significantly less scrawny.

"Can I help you?" Iruka asked.

A look of worship came across the elf's face. "Professor Umino Sir is being so kind," he muttered, "asking if he can help Dobby, just like Great Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby, eh? That would explain the sock - probably the same one Harry used to get him freed. Dobby seemed to collect himself after a moment, standing at an amusing attempt at attention. "Professor Headmaster Sir bes hiring Dobby to work at Hoggywarts, and Dobby bes asking if he can work for Great Harry Potter Sir, but Professor Headmaster Sir is saying that students can'ts be having their own elves at school, but Dobby remembers Professor Umino Sir and how he helps Dobby protect Great Harry Potter Sir from bad old master, so Dobby asks if he can be Professor Umino Sir's elf, and Professor Headmaster Sir says that he cans be if Flippy and Professor Umino Sir be agreeing to it. Dobby asks Flippy, and Flippy agrees if Professor Umino Sir does, so Dobby wonders if he can be taking over as elf assigned to Professor Umino Sir?"

Taking a moment to parse the long string of mangled grammar, the chuunin responded. "If the Headmaster and Flippy are both all right with it, then it's fine by me, though there will be a rule or two. First off, I'm sure the Headmaster has already said something along these lines, but no punishing yourself like the Malfoys used to make you."

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping comically. "Professor Headmaster Sir says the same thing."

Iruka smiled. "Good. The other big rule is that you don't do what you did two years ago, interfering with and attacking Harry to try and scare him away. If there's a threat that you know about, tell me or the Headmaster and we'll figure out what to do. Of course, if someone or something is attacking right at the moment, you can feel free to do to them what you did to Lucius Malfoy." Both man and elf wore similar smiles of fond remembrance for a moment, though the edge of vindictive pleasure in both's expression would have probably disturbed an outside observer.

"Oh, and one more thing," the chuunin said, realizing a potential issue in the future, "there are things about me and what I'm teaching Harry and his friends that most people don't know, outside of the six of us and Headmaster Dumbledore, so please don't go telling anyone else about them without our say-so, okay?"

The house-elf looked affronted. "Dobby is a _good_ elf, even when bad masters was doing terrible things, Dobby didn't tells anyone what bad master's plan was or who bad master was."

"Of course, of course," Iruka placated, "I just wanted you to know that some of these things _are_ secrets, so you know what not to talk about."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically enough that the tips of his ears started slapping against his cheeks. "Dobby understands. Dobby wills keep secrets of Great Harry Potter Sir and Professor Ninja Sir!" With the characteristic cracking sound, he vanished, presumably off to work around the castle until called upon.

Iruka sat back, slightly tired from the somewhat bizarre conversation, before straightening again. "Wait, how did he know I was a ninja?"

* * *

**Omake:**

_Sasuke read that part of the report too. He said, and I quote, "Hn."_

The next kanji was unreadable, as the first stroke suddenly veered off the edge of the scroll at a wild angle. More text followed, crammed in around the mark.

_Sorry about that. Sakura was reading over my shoulder and dope-slapped me halfway out of the village. At least the window was open this time._

**Defense Teacher Omake**

From: Black' Victo Cachat  
Teacher: Hagrid, teaching about creatures _he_ considers dangerous  
Reason for Leaving: Even Dumbledore has to put his foot down when he hears that Hagrid is shipping in Basilisks.

From: setokayba2n  
Teacher: Pein  
Reason for Leaving: The position was for one teacher, not six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explanation of the Grangers' motives in refusing to let Hermione get her teeth magically shrunk was yet another case of me looking at a canon thing and going "Okay, now how do I make this make sense given how I've characterized the people involved?"
> 
> I had the order of dragons and champions be the same as the book, just no Harry and no Horntail. And no, Cedric didn't know about the dragons - Fleur and Krum did, same as canon, but with Harry not tipped off about them he can't pass the warning along, can he? Thus, Cedric looks more frightened but gets a bit more credit from the reader for quick planning. The lack of advance warning did worsen his performance enough to cost him a couple points, dropping him to third place. We don't know what Fleur's score was in canon, only that it was lower than Cedric's which had to be 32 (based on their scores in the 2nd task and him tying Harry afterward). Since personally I think she had the best plan, I've given her a score just barely below Cedric's canon one.


	8. Ho-Ho-Horcrux

The photos were a big hit with S.E.N., with Neville in awe of the vast trees of Konoha and the three girls cooing over baby pictures of Uzumaki Himawari (Naruto, proud father that he was, had made sure to include several images of his family). Hermione started talking about the different architectural styles, and how the Hokage Tower was so different from anything she'd even heard of on Earth. Harry was most eager to see the people he'd heard so much about, and Luna loved the photo of Naruto with the two Toad Sages on his shoulders. Ginny was impressed by the various powerful kunoichi, but was a bit disappointed at the lack of 'action' shots. Iruka had to explain that photographing a shinobi while they were performing a jutsu was considered on par with peeping on them in the bath (or possibly even worse, given the proclivities of certain high-profile ninja); ninja culture was extremely secretive by nature, and nobody wanted detailed knowledge of their techniques or capabilities to get spread around.

 **Λ**  
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**V**

In mid-December, with the Yule holidays fast approaching, Iruka received a rather cryptic note asking for his presence in the Headmaster's office. He arrived to find the office occupied not only by an Albus Dumbledore looking as serious as the chuunin had ever seen him, but also by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, already seated and wearing expressions that mixed worry and confusion.

A third chair sat empty before the Headmaster's desk, and Albus motioned for him to take a seat. As he did, Iruka noticed a gaudy locket sitting in a cleared space in the center of the desk, and saw how the other men in the office seemed strangely wary of the bauble. The locket was quite large, about the size of a small egg, and oval in shape; it was made of gold, with a large letter "S" marked out on its face in small green gems.

"I'm guessing," he said, "that there's a story behind this piece of jewelry?"

Albus nodded somberly. "We shall begin with the most recent chapter of that story, so that you may understand how this meeting came about. Sirius, Remus, would you care to share this portion?"

"Well," Black began, "you know how we've been having my family's old house cleaned out? This locket was in one of the cabinets in the drawing room, and the Curse-Breakers said they didn't know what it was but it had some of the Darkest magic they'd ever seen. I didn't recognize it so I asked Kreacher, the old family elf, where it came from. It took some doing to get the story out of him," here his eyes grew distant for a few seconds, before he shook it off and continued, "but it turns out my brother Regulus sacrificed his life to steal this thing from the Dark Bastard."

"Since the Curse-Breakers couldn't identify it," Remus cut in, "and given who it apparently used to belong to, we figured we'd bring it to Albus to see if he would know what to do."

"He wanted us to just leave it with him, forget about it," Black picked back up with a brief glare at the Headmaster, "but Remus managed to argue that we were already involved, whatever it is, so we might as well know since if something involves Moldyshorts it involves my godson, and _his_ well-being is _my_ business. Then Dumbledore figured we'd probably end up telling you anyway seeing as you've been the one looking after Harry's safety recently, so he called you up here to explain it to you too."

"And thus," Albus said, "we come to the present. Before we continue I must impress upon all of you that all knowledge regarding this locket and what we are about to discuss _must_ remain absolutely secret. If Lord Voldemort should discover what we know, it could doom us all. I may agree at some point in the future to share this with Harry, but for now at least it is one of our most dangerous secrets. The term Iruka has used in the past is 'need to know': There is nobody outside this office that needs to know about this, and frankly most would likely not _want_ to know either - you will understand shortly."

The Headmaster's penetrating gaze locked onto each of his three visitors in turn, only moving on when they had nodded their assent. "Very well," he began, "I am quite certain that this locket once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. Rather curious that he would make it from gold, rather than silver; perhaps he preferred the ostentation, but I digress. How Tom Riddle came to possess it is also a story for another time. What is of immediate relevance is that I am quite certain that he has turned it into what is known as a Horcrux, by far one of the foulest creations of Dark magic ever conceived, beyond even the Unforgiveable Curses."

"I will not share any details of a Horcrux's creation," he continued, "as they are of no use to us and are horrific in the extreme. What I will say is that it begins with the use of a vile Dark ritual to prepare the object that will serve as the vessel, followed by an act of deliberate murder, and finally the casting of another Dark spell. Murder, one of the most foul of crimes, tears at the murderer's soul. Rather than healing this wound, the spell widens it, ripping away a piece of the caster's damaged soul to encase it in the prepared vessel." Both of the other wizards present wore looks of shock and revulsion, while Iruka's lips were pressed into a thin line, his face set in a scowl.

"But..." Black stammered, "Albus why in Merlin's name would _anyone_ do something like that? Rip their own soul apart?"

"Immortality," replied a grim-faced Headmaster, "at least of a sort. A Horcrux acts as an anchor, and while it remains intact its creator cannot fully die. Their body can be killed, this is true, but their soul will not pass on so long as it is anchored to this world. It is quite likely that the old fairy tale 'The Warlock's Hairy Heart' is based on the story of an actual Dark wizard who made use of a Horcrux."

"So that's why he's not gone," Remus realized, "he set up an anchor as a failsafe, so that even if somebody beat him, he'd be able to stick around. Given what Iruka and Harry have told me of their first year here, it worked, too."

Iruka nodded in agreement. "Harry told me about a conversation he had with Hagrid, when he first found out what really happened to his parents. Hagrid said he didn't think that Voldemort was dead, that he didn't have enough human left in him to die. I guess he was closer than he knew, not that I'm likely to tell him any time soon." They all shared a sardonic smile at that. A good man Hagrid might be, but everyone knew that he was utterly unable to keep secrets.

"So we destroy this thing, the tosser dies?" Black asked hopefully.

Albus hesitated. "Perhaps. It is possible that destroying this locket will sever Voldemort's last link to the mortal plane. The problem lies in the fact that, less than two years ago, another item was destroyed. From what I could determine, _it_ was Tom Riddle's Horcrux."

Iruka's eyes widened. "The diary." It wasn't a question.

"Indeed," the Headmaster confirmed, "its power, durability, and independence all suggested that it was more than a mere enchanted item like a portrait or the Sorting Hat." Several quiet scoffs could be heard around the room, with one muttered ' _mere?_ '. "I could of course have been incorrect in my assessment, but there is a far more worrisome possibility, one which no Dark wizard in recorded history is known to have attempted."

Remus's amber eyes were almost glowing as he let out a low growl. "He made more than one of those abominations?!"

Albus nodded somberly. "Tom was ever the ambitious student, never satisfied to stop at any point that others had reached, always seeking to set himself above and apart from everyone else. I consider it neither impossible nor implausible that he would seek to create more than one Horcrux. Judging by your expressions, it would seem that you have all reached the same troubling conclusion that I have: This may not be the last of Tom's Horcruxes, with one or even several yet to be discovered."

The room was silent at that, aside from the odd noises occasionally produced by some of the odd gadgets around the room. After several moments of quiet contemplation, Black asked, "So what do we do now?"

"First, I think," said the Headmaster, "we destroy the Horcrux we do have. It is not an easy thing to do, as the only known means of stripping the anchor is to destroy its vessel beyond the ability of magic to repair. Fiendfyre would likely work, or perhaps some of the more powerfully destructive Muggle technologies, but fortunately we have at our disposal something far more controllable." At this, he rose from his chair and turned to one of the bookshelves. Tapping a complex pattern on the spines of half a dozen different books caused the entire shelf to slide outward, then to the side, revealing a hidden cavity behind from which Albus withdrew a curved fang longer than a kunai.

"Basilisk venom?" Iruka asked, receiving a nod and an approving smile in response.

Dumbledore held the fang out to Black. "I think, given what this locket has cost you, that perhaps you should do the honors, Sirius. Just give me a few moments to take certain precautions, as there is no telling just what traps and protections might be woven into this Horcrux." After Black took the fang, holding it in a white-knuckled grip while glaring pure hatred at the locket, Albus began casting spells over the locket, the desk, the four men present, the walls, floor, and ceiling, and pretty much everything else in the room. Finally, at his nod, Black raised the fang up over his head in a two-handed grip before bringing it down onto the locket with all his strength. A distant part of Iruka's mind noted that his technique could use a bit of work.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, the tip of the fang seeming to simply halt just at the locket's surface. Then, suddenly, whatever protections were present seemed to yield as the fang continued downward, plunging several millimeters into the locket's face about a centimeter off-center towards the chain. An oily black mist, reminiscent of the spirit Iruka had seen fleeing Quirrell's body, poured from the puncture with a scream of rage, terror, and mortal agony that stabbed into the four men's ears far more painfully than its pitch and volume could account for. A second later the mist dissipated, leaving only the echoes of its scream and a lingering feeling of darkness that began to slowly fade. Both the echoes and the unclean feeling were swiftly driven away as Fawkes, who had sat quietly observing to this point, trilled a brief song that seemed to speak of sadness and resolve.

Black stood there, holding the fang still embedded in the locket and panting like he'd just run all the way from the Entrance Hall. "That..." he said weakly, releasing the fang and collapsing back into his chair, "We might have to do that again? Merlin..."

"Be thankful you didn't have to fight a basilisk for this one," Iruka quipped darkly, " _that_ is not something I ever want to have to repeat."

"Just please tell us the damned thing is dead," Remus said still looking warily at the locket.

Albus obligingly began casting spells over the ruined relic, before giving a grim but satisfied nod. "It now gives similar readings to the diary after Filius and Harry destroyed it. That is two anchors removed, and an unknown number yet to go."

"How do we find them?" Black asked almost plaintively.

"I am not without theories," the Headmaster said, though something about the way he said it left Iruka feeling that he was being evasive for some reason, "having done quite a bit of research into Tom's personal history in an attempt to better understand and predict his way of thinking. There are two particular items which I feel are strong candidates, and a number of locations that might prove fruitful to search. As you three are now aware of this endeavor, I will begin sharing the information I have gathered some time in the near future, once I have had an opportunity to properly organize it and set aside sufficient time for us to go over a good portion of it. Perhaps one of you might spot something which I missed, and in any case I could well benefit from having your wands at my back should I go to investigate one of the potential hiding places."

"So you think he's hidden them in recognizable locations, then?" Iruka asked. "It would be a real problem if he just decided to fly a broom out over the ocean and toss one of them into the water. So would a Horcrux made from something unremarkable, like a random stone."

Albus smiled, a bit of his usual good humor returning. "Ah, but here Tom's pride and arrogance will be some of our greatest allies. While it is true that an unobtrusive item in the middle of nowhere would indeed be nearly impossible to find, Tom would want only the most significant of items to house the precious pieces of his soul. You will understand more, I think, once you know more about his childhood and origins."

"I'm assuming you've already checked the Chamber of Secrets?" Remus spoke up.

The Headmaster nodded. "Indeed, that was one of the goals I had in mind venturing down there. Fortunately or unfortunately, Tom did not choose to hide one of his anchors in Slytherin's Chamber, likely due more to lack of opportunity than anything else."

"That reminds me," Iruka cut in, "you should probably share at least some part of this Madam Bones - who knows, the DMLE might get lucky and find one at some point. An argument could be made for Filius as well, considering he was a big part of destroying the diary."

Albus's hesitation showed as clearly on his face as his crooked nose, before he finally gave a reluctant nod. "Perhaps it would be wise to bring Amelia into our confidence, at least to some degree. You are correct in suggesting that her Aurors might stumble upon a Horcrux, or perhaps a clue that might lead to one, and she herself has proven a skilled investigator. The difficulty will be that she is of a profoundly axiomatic mindset, and will not tolerate unlawful behavior if she can prevent it. Given your previous profession and Sirius and Remus's history as pranksters, you three are all much more flexible with regards to rules." The other two looked a bit confused at this, as Iruka had still not shared the full details of his origins and abilities with them. They knew some, because of their connection to Harry, but not about the dimensional travel aspect or his jutsu, though they certainly seemed to suspect that he had been behind the anomalous flash flood after the Quidditch World Cup.

"It might also be worth seeing if you can find a decent Curse-Breaker you can trust," Sirius added, "unless you happen to know all the tricks of that particular trade. Wards, curses, and booby-traps that would have cause Moony and me no end of trouble, those guys working on Grimmauld go through 'em like they were put up by First-Years. Trouble is that there aren't exactly a lot of trained Curse-Breakers to pick from, and something like this you need to _know_ you can trust them."

"That is certainly worth considering," the Headmaster replied, "though obviously not immediately vital as we do not yet have a clear idea of where we should be searching. Still, there may be at least one possibility, but whether it will pan out remains to be seen."

"Regardless," he continued, "I must again remind you all that this information, and our efforts regarding it, _must_ be kept utterly secret. Firstly, while I'm certain none of you would be tempted to pursue such a course, there are nevertheless those who would attempt to make their own Horcrux should they learn of the possibility. Secondly, if Tom were to discover that we are aware of and seeking his treasures, he would undoubtedly act to thwart our efforts, vastly worsening the already difficult task of rendering him mortal once more."

 **Λ**  
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**V**

The other event of note in December was the Yule Ball, yet another tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. Albus and the rest of the staff had worked together with the two visiting Heads to both temporarily enlarge the Great Hall and decorate it even more spectacularly than was usual for the holiday season. Part of the spectacle _may_ have been the result a bit of one-upsmanship between the three school Heads during the decorating stage. Madame Maxime eventually won with the creation of an entire rose garden, complete with various benches and secluded spots for discreet romantic interludes that would undoubtedly require patrolling by chaperones were it not for the cold weather that would likely dampen the ardor of all but the most dedicated young lovers.

All of the faculty and staff present at Hogwarts were in attendance, as were the visiting Heads along with Ludo Bagman and Percy Weasley, the latter of which was standing in for Bartemius Crouch, who was apparently under the weather and had delegated his Tournament duties to his assistant until he recovered. Both the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons student contingents were there in their entirety, but the largest group were the students of Hogwarts: At least eighty percent of those fourth-year and up had come, along with a smattering of younger children admitted as various older students' dates. Harry and Neville had brought Luna and Ginny as their dates as friends, to allow all of S.E.N. to attend together.

Hermione had been the real surprise, to a lot of people, attending on the arm of Durmstrang champion and international Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum. Ordinarily she put little real effort into her appearance, but now she was showing that she actually cleaned up quite well indeed. Her oversized front teeth had been shrunk, her usual bushy mane tamed into smooth waves and a fancy style (courtesy of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, an invention of Harry's grandfather Fleamont Potter), and her periwinkle gown showed her developing figure kept uncommonly fit by Iruka's training. More than a few jaws hit the floor at seeing the usually somewhat frumpy witch looking radiant with easily one of the most desirable dates at the Ball, and not all of the stares directed at her were from jealous witches. The girl's beaming smile and confident bearing showed just how much good this evening was doing to exorcize the demons of poor self-image built up by years of bullying.

After the three school champions opened the Ball with the official first dance, the students flooded out to take a twirl themselves. Both Harry and Neville made sure to dance with each of their three female friends at least once, and Krum obligingly danced with Ginny and Luna once each himself. In fact, he ended up following Hermione to where S.E.N. had gathered to enjoy their evening, and got to discussing Quidditch and flying in general with Harry and Ginny, eventually joined by Cedric Diggory and his date Cho Chang, the incumbent Seeker for the Ravenclaw team. Harry's behavior towards the latter had Iruka smothering a smirk at the obvious infatuation; someone, it seemed, had begun to notice girls 'that way'. Judging by the twitching corners of Luna and Neville's lips, Iruka wasn't the only one to have picked up on this.

Beyond those simply jealous that they weren't on the arm of the famous Bulgarian, two wizards in particular seemed less than pleased by Krum's association with the Hogwarts group. Karkaroff seemed extremely put out by the fact that his superstar pupil was associating with other people - nearly every appearance by the two had the Highmaster fawning over the student and hovering over him like an overprotective mother hen. Most likely he just wanted to be connected as strongly as possible with such a major celebrity, possibly aiming to gain some degree of influence over him as well.

The other person who seemed particularly aggrieved was Ronald Weasley. Several times the redheaded Fourth-Year in the hideous maroon robes made as if to approach the group, before settling back down to simply continue glaring angrily. Iruka made sure to keep an eye on the boy, in case he was about to start trouble, but whatever his issue was it didn't seem like anything immediately dangerous. Finally, at a point where most of the pairs among the group were dancing and Krum was making his way towards the buffet with his and Hermione's goblets, the youngest male Weasley made his move.

As Ronald was stomping his way over to a presently-alone Hermione, Iruka made an excuse and started slipping through the crowd himself. He didn't think the boy was planning anything nasty, but even if he just caused a scene the chuunin wanted to be there to head it off as quickly and quietly as possible. Ginny had mentioned her youngest brother's volcanic temper, so this had the potential to get a bit ugly unless someone managed to defuse it before Mount Ronald blew his top.

Between the music and the dull roar of conversations around the room, he was practically next to the two Gryffindors before he could make out what they were saying.

"-supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" came the tail end of a firm assertion by Hermione.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ronald, "It's about winning!"

The angry shout had drawn a lot of attention and was the start of exactly the type of trouble Iruka had hoped to head off. Deciding to end this argument before it got any louder (and knowing Molly Weasley, her son probably had a fair amount of volume left unused), he stepped up to the two. "Mister Weasley," he said somewhat coldly, "your fellow students are trying to have a relaxing, enjoyable evening, and you are making a scene. If you continue causing a disruption I will have to ask you to return to your common room." He glared sternly at the boy, who grumbled angrily and sulked off.

With that incident dealt with, the evening was free to move along enjoyably for all involved.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

It turned out later that, while the Yule Ball had finished without further trouble (a spectacular success for something involving hundreds of teenagers in high spirits), the evening had not been without further drama. Apparently the youngest male Weasley had again exploded at Hermione once in the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room. From her account, along with those of the three other S.E.N. members in her House, Iruka tried to piece together what Ronald's problem was from what sounded like a somewhat rambling stream of rage.

Looking at it overall, the chuunin could only conclude that the boy was envious: He was envious of Harry's and Krum's fame and wealth, envious of Hermione's association with the Bulgarian Seeker, envious of the close connection she and the rest of S.E.N. shared with the famous "Boy Who Lived", and even a bit envious of Krum for getting a date with Hermione. Further conversation with Ginny (and with Harry, who had still been interacting with the youngest of Ginny's brothers in a friendly if distant manner - much more distant after this incident), gave Iruka further insight into the redhead's mind, even if the indirect nature of his source meant that his analysis was far from ironclad.

Apparently Ronald had a low opinion of Hermione overall, and therefore had not expected her to find a date to the Yule Ball at all. This led him to assume that she'd be available, and he considered her one of the more attractive and accessible girls that wouldn't already have dates. Thus, she was his fallback option to make sure that he had a date to the Ball in the event that no more desirable girl would accept his invitation (a likely state, given his humiliating attempt to ask Fleur Delacour). When Hermione turned out to have a date already when he asked her at the last minute, it left him feeling betrayed.

Ronald Weasley was almost certainly deeply insecure, even compared to other teenagers. Five older brothers who had each achieved a degree of success and respect in their chosen fields of endeavor, plus a younger sister that was doted upon for being the only girl born to the family in quite some time, left him feeling constantly overlooked and overshadowed. This wasn't exactly surprising, as he certainly had a lot to live up to, but it would explain his envy of those who he felt were outshining him. His lackadaisical nature might also be a result of this, as what would the point be of exerting himself if he'd never achieve enough to measure up?

It was, frankly, a mess, and not one that Iruka really felt he was suited to handling. Perhaps if the boy had joined Harry in S.E.N. he'd have found his own way to stand out among his brothers, but there was no way for anyone involved to have known that at the time. Keeping the group semi-secret would have also been a bit more difficult, admittedly, since Ronald didn't seem to have much of a filter between his brain and his mouth, but the meditation and other exercises might have helped that in time as well.

Regardless, it was too late now: He was years behind the others, and would be starting at an older age and thus benefit less from the physical portions of the training. That wouldn't be a problem on its own, but given his existing issues it could get ugly when his envy was turned towards his peers' greater advancement and abilities, negating the entire attempt to help him move past his insecurities. The most Iruka could do was explain the matter to the Weasley parents, and to Minerva as the boy's Head of House. With a sigh, he reached for his writing materials to begin a letter to the Burrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Himawari is not still a baby at this time. Naruto just sent along baby pics of his kids, partly to brag and partly to embarrass Boruto.
> 
> I seriously tried to make Ron a part of S.E.N., but it just didn't make sense when the group was first forming, and the final paragraph of this chapter explains why bringing him in late would be problematic at best. It's unfortunate, since my original thoughts had him turning into the group's equivalent of Shikamaru - a lazy but brilliant tactician - but I just didn't see a believable way to bring him on board.


	9. Memory Lane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: A mention and brief discussion of rape via mind-altering magic.

A couple days before New Years, Dobby popped in with a message for Iruka. "Professor Headmaster Sir is asking Dobby to ask Professor Umino Sir to his office to meet with Professor Moony and Great Harry Potter Sir's dogfather." The little elf was again dressed in a child-sized suit, this one less worn and ill-fitting, with a tweed jacket and a smart red bow-tie. He also still had one bare foot and one somewhat distressed but well-cared-for sock.

Soon enough the chuunin was once again in his employer's office. "Albus," he greeted with a polite nod, "Remus, Mr. Black."

"Enough of this 'Mister Black' dragondung," the dog animagus said, "always makes me think my father's about, especially here in the Headmaster's office." This drew a round of amused grins. "You've done so much for Harry, Moony, and me, and we're going to be hip-deep in this whole Horcrux mess together - just call me Sirius, okay?"

"Sirius it is then," Iruka replied with a smile, "and you're right, we're all friends on this little venture. Just call me Iruka."

"It does my old heart good to see such things," Albus beamed from behind his desk. "Friendship, camaraderie, love - these are all things which Tom will never understand, which many of his followers dismiss or disdain, and which I firmly believe are our greatest strength against the darkness to come." He paused, his smile dimming. "But that is for the future. For now, I'm afraid, we must focus on the past." With that the Headmaster rose from his desk and retrieved his Pensieve, along with a rack of phials that were filled with the distinctive silvery-white smoky not-liquid-not-gas of extracted memories.

"Our first trip down memory lane," he stated as he withdrew the first phial from the rack, "comes courtesy of the late Bob Ogden, at the time of this recollection employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We shall be accompanying him as his duties take him to just outside the village of Little Hangleton some seven decades ago." With that, he opened the phial and emptied its contents into the shallow bowl before him. "Shall we?"

The four men observed as Ogden, dressed in an abysmally poor attempt at Muggle disguise, made his way first down a country lane and then into a thicket. Upon seeing the shack that was the memory's destination, Remus muttered about feeling better about his own cottage. Iruka found himself agreeing - the structure was so decrepit and ill-maintained that most wouldn't even consider it fit for human habitation. Looking over the filthy domicile didn't stop the chuunin from noticing a figure up in one of the trees near a front door 'decorated' with the corpse of a snake nailed on.

That figure dropped down with surprising agility, holding a wand in one hand and a bloody knife in the other. It was a man, filthy and unkempt, almost a mirror of his home in how little care he apparently showed for his hygiene or general condition. He hissed threateningly at Ogden, in what Iruka realized had to be Parseltongue, before cursing the Ministry wizard and laughing at the results.

Events that followed gave the half-feral man's name as Morfin Gaunt and revealed his sister Merope and their father, whose name wasn't spoken. Apparently Morfin had cursed a local Muggle, prompting Ogden's visit to deliver a Ministry summons. The elder Gaunt was clearly of the opinion that his family's 'pure blood' placed them above the law, ranting at length about their descent from Salazar Slytherin. In the process, he showed off both a rather ugly ring and a very familiar locket, the latter of which caused Black - _Sirius_ to stiffen and mutter "Reg". He also showed his utter disdain for his daughter, whose every mannerism announced how such verbal abuse was the norm in her life.

After the Muggle in question rode by the situation deteriorated rapidly, culminating in Ogden defending Merope from her own family and being hounded out of the house by spellfire in retaliation. As he fled, he ran into the Muggle and his companion. Iruka couldn't help but note that the man was referred to as "Tom" and bore strikingly similar features to the shade of a young Voldemort.

Bob Ogden made his exit soon thereafter, followed immediately by the four observers exiting the Pensieve. Once they'd all returned to their seats, Iruka was the first to speak. "There was certainly a fair amount to digest there, but given the amount of Parseltongue being spoken we probably missed a lot of information. Would it be possible to bring Harry in, at least for this memory, to provide a translation?"

"Actually," Albus replied with a twinkle in his eye, "while I cannot naturally speak Parseltongue, nor could I truly be considered fluent, I am in fact able to understand it when spoken by a human. I have here a transcript which I previously prepared, including a translation of all of the dialogue spoken among the Gaunts." He withdrew a roll of parchment from his desk, and proceeded to create three copies with a wave of his wand and distribute among his guests.

Sirius snorted as he read what Morfin had first said. "' _You're not welcome_ ,' he says. I never would've guessed, what with the knife and the cursing."

Finishing the scroll and considering what he'd read, seen, and heard, Iruka spoke up again. "That wealthy Muggle, his companion called him 'Tom', and he looked a lot like the teenaged Tom Marvolo Riddle that Filius, Harry, and I encountered two years ago. Given Merope Gaunt's heritage and clear infatuation with the man, would I be correct in guessing that we just saw Voldemort's parents?"

Remus looked thoughtful, and Sirius shocked, but Albus simply smiled proudly. "Well reasoned, Iruka," the Headmaster replied. "The Muggle we saw was named Tom Riddle, while the forename of the senior Gaunt was Marvolo. Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, named for his father and maternal grandfather." He proceeded to explain the events that followed the memory they'd all just watched, the arrest of the male Gaunts and the sudden elopement of Tom Riddle with Merope Gaunt, and Riddle's subsequent return.

Sirius commented again. "That Marvolo reminded me of my _dear_ departed mother," all present could hear the sarcasm dripping from the word 'dear', "with his son more like my cousin Bella. Must be all the Dark magic, rots the brain."

"I doubt the generations of inbreeding helped," Remus responded, shooting a wry look at his old friend, "in either family's case."

"Oi!"

Iruka chuckled at the byplay, before turning serious. "Merope Gaunt's situation reminds me uncomfortably of those of Harry and Dobby, though both of those two seem to have come through in better shape mentally and morally. I certainly can't see Harry committing what is tantamount to rape, regardless of how downtrodden or infatuated he might be. Both of Voldemort's parents were victims - one of a lifetime of abuse, the other of mind control and rape - and neither of them deserved it. It just makes it even uglier that one victim was the other's assailant."

Albus nodded somberly. "A convoluted set of events to be sure. Ms. Gaunt's circumstances in no way excuse her actions, nor do those actions make what came before less abhorrent. Try as I might, I find it difficult to truly find anything positive anywhere in the entire matter."

"Setting that aside for now," he continued, "I'm sure you all recognized the locket the unfortunate witch was wearing. I had already suspected before Sirius's discovery that it might be of import, a suspicion that is now confirmed. What else did you gentlemen note?"

"The ring," Remus said immediately, "something Marvolo Gaunt clearly considered even more important than the locket, given that he wore it himself instead of hanging it on a daughter that he didn't care for. I don't recognize the name Peverell though."

"It's an old Pureblood family," Sirius explained, "really old, but they went extinct in the male line centuries ago. Dear old Mum made sure Reg and me knew everything she could cram into our heads about Pureblood genealogy and bloodlines."

Iruka suspected that he was the only guest in the office to notice its occupant relaxing a bit at the former fugitive's recounting. Rather than bring this up, he pointed out another observation. "Both Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt were insane: Marvolo was made of pretty much nothing but hate and ego to the point of not even bothering to maintain his own home to even a basic level. His son was even worse, all of his father's faults and probably a full-blown psychopath besides. To be honest, given what he did to snakes, I wouldn't have been at all surprised to find out he'd moved on to giving people the same treatment at some point. Investigating the background of serial murderers often reveals a history of torturing or killing animals starting from a disturbingly young age." Albus didn't even bother to hide his stiffening at that statement. "I'm guessing that ties into something else?"

The Headmaster nodded, removing Bob Ogden's memory from the Pensieve and adding the next one in the rack. "This time, we are going to enter _my_ memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. Iruka's comments seem almost prescient on one point of its contents. In any case, please accompany me back some months over fifty-six years into the past, to Wool's Orphanage in London."

While the orphanage was old, dreary, and shabby like the Gaunt shack, it was vastly better-cared-for. Its cleanliness, bustle, and obvious lack of money all reminded Iruka of the Burrow, albeit without some of the vibrancy and warmth of the Weasley family home.

Albus's reaction to Iruka's comments was easy to understand upon hearing that a young, presumably ten- or eleven-year old Tom Riddle had killed another child's pet over an argument. The incident on the school outing was another red flag. It was clear from what the increasingly-inebriated matron was saying that the young boy already had his peers and even caretakers frightened of him.

Eleven-year-old Riddle looked like a clone of his father; even sitting on his bed reading, his posture was confident to the point of arrogance, not entirely unlike the cocky Muggle aristocrat, but also not as relaxed. It was telling that he expected the orphanage staff had called in some kind of expert to examine him, and that he was shocked that Albus hadn't promptly obeyed his command. Albus's persistent calm and pleasant demeanor was quite impressive, given the boy's behavior.

If they hadn't already known what this child would grow to become, Iruka would have been interrupting the memory to warn the others that he was _dangerous_. Practically every sentence from the boy's mouth, every expression on his face only reinforced the impression that there was something dark and foul in his makeup, that this was one of those rare few people too deeply and inherently evil for even Naruto to reach. The chuunin wished that he could somehow reach out to that past Albus Dumbledore, plead with him not to give this monster-in-the-making any more power to abuse, a feeling that seemed to be mirrored on the faces of his fellow observers.

Leaving the Pensieve and retaking their seats, all four men were silent for a few moments.

"That was... disturbing," was all Remus could say. Sirius just nodded his agreement.

"An accurate observation," Albus remarked with a wry but strained smile, "but perhaps not the most useful to us at present. What would you gentlemen say this encounter teaches us about Tom Riddle?"

"He was a creepy, evil sod even as a kid?" Sirius ventured.

"He wanted to be special," Remus cut in with a chiding look to his friend. "The instant you told him there was something different, something special about him, he grabbed onto it with both hands. There's also his dislike of his name, 'Tom', for being so common and ordinary."

"He also wanted power," Sirius added. "Look at how eager he was to get his hands on spellbooks, and how proud he was of being able to 'make things happen' as he put it. There's also the fact that he turned down any sort of help, wanted to do everything himself."

"Trophies," Iruka said, drawing confused looks from the Marauders and an approving smile from the Headmaster. "He had that box of items stolen from the other children, but they weren't particularly valuable. I doubt he was using them, either, since some were musical instruments and making any use of them would instantly point him out as the thief. If he wasn't taking them because he had an actual use for them, and couldn't make any money off of them, that only leaves a few likely possibilities: He might have had a compulsive urge to steal, enjoyed the challenge or the thrill of stealing, simply wanted to deny the other children their prized possessions, or wanted trophies of some type. The first two seem unlikely, since all of the items seem to have been stolen from the other orphans - a compulsive thief or a thrill-seeker would have taken things from the adults too, as well as possibly things from outside the orphanage. If it were about denying those items to the other children, he could have destroyed them and left the remains to be found rather than keeping evidence of his thefts where it could be found. To my mind, that just leaves some form of trophy-keeping, prizes to remind him of his domination over his fellow orphans."

"All of those are excellent observations," Albus replied, "and largely match my own conclusions. I would only add Tom's suspicious nature: He did not trust the staff of the orphanage, nor did he trust me. Sometimes such suspicion is warranted, a sign that things are not right in the individual's environment, but given the evidence at the time and since I consider this unlikely. More likely in this case is the tendency of those who are least worthy of trust to also be those least willing to extend it to others. We all tend to act on the assumption that the minds of others are largely alike to our own, as our own mind is the only example we are able to study in depth. This is why Hagrid is so trusting - he himself is honest almost to a fault, and has difficulty grasping that other people are not nearly so noble as he is. At the opposite end we find Tom Riddle, a boy already filled with guile, selfishness, and deceit, and who therefore sees these traits in others regardless of their true character."

"I do wonder at times whether young Tom's introduction to magic could have been handled better," Albus said to nobody in particular. "If I had only been kinder and more welcoming, could he have found love for others in his heart? If I had been stricter, could I have steered him from the path he took? Alas, I doubt that we shall ever know."

Iruka shook his head. "Most people are decent enough," he began, "or at least they start that way. Even many of history's greatest villains and monsters had the best of intentions, at first, only to be corrupted by power or driven mad with grief or pain or hate. I once encountered a man, one who called himself a god and wanted to create the most powerful and horrific weapon the world had ever seen, and was willing to commit atrocities to make that happen. As a child, he was a kind orphan who loved his friends and dreamed of bringing peace and happiness to everyone. Events and circumstances can twist even the noblest of people, and many of the greatest villains were once great heroes, or at least had the potential to be."

"There are a rare few people, though," he continued, "that are different. Something in them is just inherently broken, wrong, _evil_. From the moment they were born, they never had a chance to be a good person, because there simply was no good in them to start with. Tom Marvolo Riddle was one of those. He showed neither remorse nor any shame over hurting his fellow children, only fear of being punished. Even back then, he had no conscience, no sense of empathy - someone like that will always become a monster, given the opportunity."

Another thoughtful silence followed, broken by Sirius. "Fear. You said it, Iruka, fear of being punished. That's why old Moldy wants power: He's afraid and thinks power will make him feel safe. It'd explain why he was daft enough to rip his soul apart too - fear of death. Even the name he took announces how scared of death he is, well, death and French lessons apparently." This produced a snort from Remus and lightened the heavy atmosphere in the room.

"Getting back on topic," Iruka said pointedly, "I'm guessing that your conclusion, Albus, was that Riddle may have continued with his practice of keeping trophies, and used those to house his Horcruxes?"

"Indeed", the Headmaster replied, "that is my assessment. His habit of keeping trophies along with his ego and desire to be special likely drove him to use the greatest treasures he could to hold the fragments of his soul. After all, in his view, only the most precious of items would be considered worthy of housing a part of the great Lord Voldemort."

Remus frowned. "What about the diary, then? That wasn't any great relic, just something you could pick up at any Muggle bookseller."

"Well for starters, it was probably his first Horcrux," Iruka explained, "so he might not have had any historical treasures available at the time. Beyond that, my best guess would be that it's part of his whole 'Lord Voldemort' persona: I doubt he just left it blank - someone from a poor background wouldn't buy something they didn't intend to use - so I'd bet he originally recorded his discovery of the Chamber in it. That made it 'proof' that he was the heir of Salazar Slytherin, that he had an _important_ and _special_ wizarding pedigree. The locket is the same way, and so is the ring assuming that pans out."

Albus nodded thoughtfully. "In other words, we should be looking for items that help to make Lord Voldemort feel special. I use Tom's chosen alias rather than his birth name because he has sought to distance himself from his former identity. Tom was given a Special Award for Services to the School for his framing of Hagrid, an award that to this day remains in the Trophy Room here at Hogwarts; I have cast upon this award every diagnostic and detection spell I could find, with all coming up negative. Further, I must confess to having slightly defaced it with a weak cutting charm, and the resultant scratch remains unrepaired. This, to me, is near-absolute proof that the award is not a Horcrux."

"He might've considered it as a teenager," Sirius pointed out, "but once he set his sights on older, more valuable stuff he'd have passed a school award off as not important enough. Not to mention that Moaning Myrtle's the only murder I know of at Hogwarts in the last fifty years. I mean, maybe he could've stolen the plaque or cup or whatever for however long it took to make it into a Horcrux and then brought it back, but that's a lot of work for something he'd have felt was beneath him."

"Not to mention being somewhere that anybody could find it," Remus added. "With a public spot like the Trophy Room, people would've noticed pretty quickly if something in there had nasty curses or booby-traps on it. He certainly went out of his way to protect the Locket, after all, so it stands to reason that any other Horcruxes would also be hidden and protected somehow. While I'm sure he'd be tickled at the idea of hiding one of his anchors in plain sight right under Albus's nose, I doubt he'd be foolish enough to think it would actually work."

"Why thank you, Remus." Albus's eyes were set to 'maximum twinkle'. "One other thing I feel I should point out to you all: Tom quickly concluded that his mother could not have been magical, for he was certain that if she had been she'd not have died. Even at his first true introduction to magic, he was already viewing it as a means to escape the limits of mortality."

"In any event," he continued, "I believe our time today is very nearly up. Until we are able to reconvene, please consider what we have already witnessed and discussed - new questions or insights might arise after you've had more time to digest this information. Of course, as before I must remind you all to keep these meetings absolutely secret."

"Before we go, Albus," Iruka cut in, "I think it might be helpful to share this information with Harry at some point. While he may have reacted very differently than a young Tom Riddle, the fact remains that both boys had a lot in common in their backgrounds. If we get stuck, he might be better at getting inside Riddle's head, so to speak."

"I will consider it," Albus sighed, "but it is something I would very much prefer to avoid if at all possible. Harry has already been burdened enough as it is, and I have no wish to add to his burdens. Let him enjoy his childhood, what few years of it remain."

Iruka nodded. "We should at least get as far as we can ourselves before bringing in anybody else, for secrecy's sake if nothing else. If that's all, I'll see you gentlemen - and Sirius - later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again the struggle of striking a balance between covering the material adequately and avoiding excessive rehash of canon. I refuse to fully write out something that stretched for over a dozen pages in Half-Blood Prince when it's basically just exposition.
> 
> Re-reading the scene of Dumbledore bringing Riddle his Hogwarts letter, I'm impressed by how well Rowling painted a budding young monster. Magic or no magic, that kid was a serial killer in the making. Morfin was too, to be honest.
> 
> A lot of people commented on my handling of Ron last chapter, mostly disappointed that he wouldn't be part of S.E.N., and I understand their feelings - I was disappointed too! There's even a spot in the events I'm working on (chapter 77 or 78, probably) where he'd be the perfect person to bring something up if he was there. I'd originally intended to have him be somewhat of a Shikamaru analogue, a lazy but brilliant tactician, but just couldn't find a way to plausibly bring him into the group. The person he was back in First Year wouldn't have wanted anything to do with something being described as a "study group". They could have told him the truth, but throughout the series he tends to lack a filter between brain and mouth, particularly when angry or annoyed, which could have led to their secrets being shouted out in Draco's face within days ("Oh yeah? Well I'm learning awesome foreign magic that'll let me walk on walls!" or something similar). My original take on the Chamber of Secrets had Ron being part of it, but with the way events played out there was no way to have him there; after all, why would Iruka bring a twelve/thirteen-year-old noncombatant into such a dangerous situation unless he had no other choice?
> 
> My take on Ron is that he had a lot of potential as a character, but it was never truly realized in canon. He also had some serious issues that were never really addressed. Going forward in this story, he's not going to be playing a significant role (unless I land in a spot where he'll be present to offer some strategic insight to the Order), but neither will he be subject to bashing.


	10. Splash

Classes were just about to resume when Rita Skeeter finally found a way to sting the Headmaster. The headline in that day's Prophet read: "DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE". Somehow, Skeeter had discovered Hagrid's half-giant heritage, and the article that resulted painted the kindly man as a savage brute endangering the children at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, from what Harry had overheard the night of the Yule Ball, it seemed that the story was factual enough to avoid breaching the muckraker's agreement with Albus.

Hagrid himself had retreated to his hut in a combination of mortification and fear of the students' reactions. Given how quickly Remus had been pushed out the previous year, this fear was hardly unfounded. After a day of Care of Magical Creatures classes being taught by a substitute Professor, Harry and Luna ended up leading the rest of S.E.N. in rallying many of their fellow students (mostly a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs) in support of their largest friend. The gentle half-giant opened his door at Harry's insistence to find dozens of children and more than a few staff members gathered outside his hut; as soon as the door was open far enough, Luna immediately latched onto the kindly man (or at least his leg) in a comforting hug.

Beginning the next day, Care of Magical Creatures classes at Hogwarts were once again taught by their official Professor. According to Iruka's students, the friendly half-giant was a bit more serious in class than he had been before, a touch more professional, though his open love of his subject was undimmed. If he also seemed somehow slightly lighter than before, well, nobody was commenting on that.

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Hagrid's immediate issue resolved, life at the castle fell back into its somewhat-modified routine after the holidays. The only noticeable change was that Viktor Krum and several more of his schoolmates joined those Durmstrang students that had already been joining in with the weekend pickup Quidditch games. Harry reported that the Bulgarian Seeker had complimented his flying, saying he'd already be stiff competition for many professional Seekers and encouraging him to keep training to fully bring out his potential. Matches between the two celebrities tended to draw especially large crowds, and on a few occasions even the other players stopped what they were doing just to watch the two trying to outfly each other.

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Midway through January, a letter from Sirius reported that they'd finally managed to clear the Black family library the week before, and had just found the missing spells required to recreate the important functions of the Marauder's Map. Both remaining Marauders would be working with Albus and Filius to create a number of copies for staff use.

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It was nearly a month after their previous meeting that the four Horcrux hunters were once again able to gather in the Headmaster's office. Albus prefaced the first memory by describing Tom Riddle's start at Hogwarts: In spite of his apparently-humble origins, or maybe in part because of them, the talented young orphan had managed to charm students and staff alike. By Albus's account, he alone harbored suspicions about the charismatic boy, watching for signs of trouble but never seeing enough to act upon. "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much."

While at school, the young Slytherin had begun to gather followers that would one day become the first Death Eaters. The group had been suspected but never conclusively linked to numerous ugly incidents during their years at Hogwarts, a practice they'd kept up on a larger scale after graduating.

At the same time, Riddle himself searched aggressively for traces of a wizarding heritage. After finally concluding that there had been no other magical Riddles, he began trying to track down his mother's family, making use of the knowledge that his middle name came from his maternal grandfather. The summer after his O.W.L.s, he paid a visit to the Gaunt hovel. Albus handed out a set of transcripts, explaining that almost everything said in this memory was spoken in Parseltongue.

Iruka had thought that the shack was filthy and decrepit during Bob Ogden's memory. This one, a generation later, left him considering that version of the home merely 'ill-kept' by comparison. Then again, given how feral Morfin Gaunt was even under his father's control, it wasn't exactly surprising that he was far worse after both Dementor exposure and years of solitude. While the inbred wizard was probably a very adept poacher, a competent housekeeper he most definitely was _not_.

The boy at the door was essentially the same Tom Riddle that had emerged from the diary. He showed no fear in front of his drunken, bestial uncle, calmly walking through the filthy hovel with his expression a mild mix of disgust and disappointment. Iruka noted that Morfin was now wearing the ring his father had borne in the previous memory-visit. Based on Albus's translation, the brief conversation (well, more of a mad rant in Morfin's case) gave Riddle the information necessary to positively identify his father. The memory ended suddenly, with an abrupt and total darkness falling over everything.

"Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," said Dumbledore, "When he awoke the next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone." He described the murders of Tom Riddle Senior and his parents, their bodies unmarked as was typical for the Killing Curse. The Muggle authorities were, unsurprisingly, stumped by the case; the Ministry found an open-and-shut case against Morfin Gaunt, who proudly admitted to the murders. Apparently the younger Tom Riddle had Stunned his uncle, stolen the man's wand, used it to kill his father and grandparents, then returned to his mother's former home and implanted in his uncle a false memory of committing the murders. Morfin had never realized that he was innocent of this particular crime, and spent the rest of his life merely bemoaning the loss of his father's ring.

"Bloody hell," Sirius breathed, "casting the Killing Curse on his own family at sixteen? No wonder he used the damn thing so much, if he had that easy a time with it."

Albus nodded somberly. "Between his raw power and a frighteningly deep well of hatred, Tom certainly had something of a talent for the Unforgiveables. I also believe that he had a particular fondness for the Killing Curse, wielding it as his weapon of choice to end most fights."

"That makes some sense," Iruka noted, "given his total lack of empathy or a conscience. Almost every human being has at least some empathy, and it's pretty well demonstrated that our instincts are hard against causing serious harm to another person. Just look at the way untrained people fight when unarmed, usually attacking clumsily and targeting places that won't easily cause major damage. It's more like the play-fighting you see between dogs, for example, than a real attempt to hurt each other. Even most of the more vicious among the Death Eaters probably still have this, even if it's shriveled and muted. Intent is a huge factor in magic, especially the Unforgiveables, and that instinctive barrier would get in the way of most people using such curses unless they built up enough hate to overcome it."

"Riddle, though," he continued, "he doesn't seem to have that _at all_. People like that, hurting someone is no more difficult than not hurting them. He doesn't have that bit of internal resistance, which means that he probably has no more trouble casting the Killing Curse than he would a high-powered Stunner; to him, it's just another spell. Throw in how effective a weapon the curse is in combat, how hard it is for most people to defend against, and you begin to see part of why he throws it around so trivially."

"That's... disturbing," Remus commented.

"Based upon my observations of Tom's character, abilities, and methods, it is also quite plausible," Albus added. "There was one other element of that bit of history that I thought relevant, though I suspect that a subsequent memory and its associated tale will make the point more clearly. Regardless, unless one of you has a further comment to make, we should probably move on to the next memory..."

The contents of the next phial moved more sluggishly, more like honey than like the strange hybrid of mercury and smoke that best described other stored memories. Upon entering the Pensieve, the quartet found themselves in what appeared to be an office at Hogwarts. The room's other adult occupant was a rotund blonde wizard, luxuriating in a comfortable armchair with a glass of wine and a box of some sort of candied fruit. Surrounding the mustachioed man were a half-dozen teenaged boys, including the now-familiar Tom Riddle wearing the Peverell family ring. All of the boys' seats were, Iruka noted, lower and/or less comfortable than the man he presumed was a Professor - a thinly-veiled sign of dominance on his part. 'Subtlety' and 'wizards' apparently just did not generally mix.

The Professor was just complimenting Riddle when the room was abruptly filled with thick white fog, obscuring everything but the four observers, and the man's voice boomed out, " _You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words._ " As quickly as it had come, the fog vanished again and the scene resumed. A chime of a clock prompted the Professor to dismiss the little group, reminding two of them about an essay due soon. Iruka noted that the two were addressed as "Lestrange" and "Avery" - both names of families tied to the Death Eaters.

While the rest filed out, Riddle hung back, leaving him alone with the Professor. This may have been relatively blatant, but the question he asked next - with no real lead-in or build up, mind - made it seem like an ANBU operation by comparison: "Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

Again the fog covered the memory and the voice of the Professor boomed from all directions. " _I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!_ "

Moments later, they were back in the Headmaster's office.

"I'm guessing I'm not the only one that thinks something was a bit off with that memory?" Sirius asked. "It didn't even pour right - did it go bad or something, or is old Slughorn getting forgetful? _Can_ you forget a memory that's not in your head?"

Albus shook his head. "When a memory has been removed or copied, the stored version is not subject to the vagaries of human recollection. What we all witnessed was precisely what Horace gave me when I asked him about Tom and Horcruxes."

"Given the... _issues_ with that memory," Iruka said, "it's pretty obvious that it's been altered somehow."

The Headmaster nodded. "Yes, it is almost certain that the truth of that conversation was rather different from what we've been shown. Why else would Horace have meddled with his own recollection?"

"So he _did_ talk to Riddle about Horcruxes," Remus reasoned, "and he doesn't want other people finding out what was said. That begs the question of why, and more importantly what the actual conversation entailed?"

"I think we all suspect that Horcruxes were discussed more in-depth," Albus replied. "As for why, I can only speculate, although I believe that Horace is embarrassed or perhaps ashamed about the truth, though it is not impossible that the conversation strayed into such territory that he fears some form of censure."

Iruka was finding himself a bit less enthusiastic about Harry's continued contact with Professor Emeritus Horace Slughorn. He'd have to bring that up later. "There's another question, Remus," he cut in, "and that's 'How do we get the real version?'."

"That is the question indeed," Albus mused, "and I would very much prefer to find an answer before approaching Horace again. I dare say that it will require more than a box of crystallized pineapple to pry this information from him. If my suspicions are correct, an accurate version of this memory might well be vital in ensuring the lasting end of Lord Voldemort."

The rest of that day's meeting was spent in discussion of possible means for getting the truth out of Horace Slughorn. A number of methods were brought up, most of which fell into four major categories:

Simply reasoning with the man was deemed a remote possibility, but only if they could come up with new and compelling arguments that hadn't been part of Albus's previous attempt.

Bribery could be viable if a sufficiently appealing bribe could be found, but Slughorn was very much accustomed to a life of comfort, provided in large part by his various contacts. It would likely take a truly spectacular 'gift' to loosen the old wizard's lips.

Threats were floated as an idea, but quickly rejected, mostly on moral grounds. Iruka also pointed out that frightened people can be dangerously unpredictable, meaning this method could also potentially backfire.

An appeal to _Slughorn's_ morality was then mooted, only for the Headmaster to explain that this had been the tail end of his original approach. If it didn't work the first time, it wasn't likely to work much better the second.

In the end, they had to set the discussion aside, though all four resolved to keep thinking about ways to get the information they needed. Just before the group departed, Iruka brought up the topic of Harry's occasional correspondence with Slughorn. They decided to remind the teen to avoid sharing any potentially sensitive information, and to inform him that the former Professor was under a degree of suspicion.

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The Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament was a truly spectacular demonstration of gross incompetence. Bagman, for all his love of spectacle, failed to realize that as challenging as his idea for the Task was, the audience would be mostly stuck sitting around watching a lake.

In February.

Hogwarts' impending shortage of Pepper-Up Potion aside, there was very little to see. Iruka once again watched as part of the safety team; rescuing someone from a lake gets much easier when you can just run over and grab them. Both Diggory and Delacour used the Bubble-Head Charm, while Krum somehow transfigured his upper body into the front half of a shark. Iruka wondered how the Durmstrang champion intended to do anything without hands, such as rescuing his hostage or reversing the spell, but it was still an impressive feat to pull off considering just how incompatible human and shark physiology probably were.

After about half an hour of watching ripples on the water, a pair of merpeople pulled a bedraggled and half-conscious Fleur Delacour to the surface near shore. The safety monitors nearby quickly helped her from the water and to the medical tent, but not before everyone saw the numerous fresh bruises and cuts all over her limbs. Even half-drowned as she appeared to be, the French champion was struggling against her rescuers, as if trying to return to the water. Iruka recalled the clue in the golden eggs as it had been described to him, and thought darkly how cruel it was to indicate to the champions that their hostages could be forever lost if they failed to complete their task on time.

Ten minutes later Delacour emerged from the medical tent, dry and wrapped in a heavy blanket, before making a beeline for her Headmistress with a look of near-panic on her face. The two were too far away for Iruka to make out what was being spoken (not that he'd have likely understood - he knew pretty much no French), but Madame Maxime's placating gestures and the agitated body language of her student made the general shape of their conversation clear.

Diggory was the next to resurface, just past the one-hour mark, towing his girlfriend Cho Chang. Krum returned several minutes after that, with Hermione of all people. It was a bit odd to choose someone based on a single date, Iruka thought, but either none of his friends from home were available (possible) or Karkaroff figured he could keep his students out of the lake (more likely, given what Iruka had seen of the man). Regardless, the chuunin stepped over to help the two out of the water, and if his feet didn't actually sink into the shallows, who could tell?

While the Hogwarts and Durmstrang champions and their respective hostages were being looked over and warmed up in the medical tent, another pair of merpeople brought a young girl to the surface. She looked to be about eight or nine, with long silvery-blonde hair and facial features that marked her as a close relative of Fleur Delacour, possibly a younger sister. Based upon the French witch's frantic shouts, the girl's name was apparently Gabrielle, and Fleur carried her straight to the medical tent with her blanket wrapped around both of them.

Once everyone had been dried out, warmed up, and given a clean bill of health, the three champions lined up to receive their scores. Delacour came in last - she'd failed the task after all; apparently she'd run into a pack of Grindylows in one of the kelp beds in the lake, hence her injuries. Still, judges gave her twenty-five out of the possible fifty points for her attempt. Diggory outscored Krum forty-seven to forty because he'd returned with his hostage sooner. Added to their scores from the First Task, this put Diggory in the lead with seventy-seven points, followed by Krum at seventy-four, and Delacour trailing far behind at fifty-six. From the packets Albus had handed out back in August, Iruka knew this meant that Diggory would be the first into the maze that would constitute the Third Task, and both he and Krum would have a substantial head start over Delacour. Of course, given the kinds of obstacles inside the maze, none of the three could be counted out.

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Mid-March brought two developments from the Marauders: The first was that they had completed the first prototype of a newer-model Marauder's Map. This new version could be set to not display the markers for the castle's inhabitants in certain areas, with the possibility of showing excluded areas if an additional password was given. Remus explained that they wanted the staff to be able to monitor the halls, grounds, and other public areas while still affording the students some privacy in their Houses. Filius had managed to add the option to 'track' a particular individual, highlighting their marking on the map to make it easier to follow their movements, in order to better keep an eye on visitors or intruders. Currently, the group was working on incorporating a search function in order to allow the user to quickly locate a specific person.

The second bit of news was of more direct benefit to Iruka. After watching the abject boredom that was the Second Task, Sirius and Remus had gotten to talking about ways the audience could have been shown what was happening to the champions while they were underwater. Remus's description of Muggle television cameras led to Sirius remembering a pair of enchanted hand mirrors that he and James had used to communicate back when they were students. The two Marauders had then tracked down another similar pair of mirrors which they gave to Iruka, suggesting that he send one back with his next letter home in hopes of opening up a faster line of communications. As for the original mirrors, those they were keeping for sentimental value, though they did hint that Harry would be receiving one of the pair for his next birthday.

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**V**

Hermione Granger was on a crusade. After a long chat with Dobby (this time dressed in an odd piecemeal tuxedo with plaid pants and a ribbon-style necktie), she'd realized just how _awfully_ some House-Elves were treated by their masters. She understood, of course, that elves loved to work and to serve, and Iruka-sensei and her parents had reminded her to be respectful of other people's cultures and beliefs as long as they weren't hurting anybody. While she'd be much happier to see all House-Elves free and being paid a fair wage for their labor, she had to acknowledge that it would take years, maybe generations, to get to the point where _they_ would be happier that way too.

On the other hand, the way some witches and wizards treated their elves was just plain _wrong_! Forcing a poor, defenseless, faithful servant to hurt themselves for even the littlest thing, or even just for entertainment, was horrible and evil and ought to be against the law. That, Hermione decided, would be her first Cause. She was going to get a law passed banning cruelty to House-Elves, and make sure that every elf in Britain was treated with decency. Respect would be pushing it, she thought, given the fact that most of the more egregious offenders didn't even respect other witches and wizards, let alone other humans in general, so getting them to respect a non-human species was just not going to happen.

Actually, that brought up an important question: Should she tie in the issue of better treatment for House-Elf with that of better treatment of other magical beings, or even more broadly of anyone not a Pureblood? She'd have to think about that, but that was no reason not to start on the one issue she was certain of. Perhaps she should start by writing up informative leaflets to distribute? The Lovegoods ran a magazine, so perhaps she should ask Luna or Mr. Lovegood about how to design the leaflets for best effect, and how to get them printed up? No, before that, she needed to start with a list...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write out Dumbledore's exact words at the meeting because they'd be pretty much a verbatim copy of a scene from A Sluggish Memory, Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and I didn't want to copy a full page worth of content straight from the book.


	11. Calling

It was a couple days after Gamato's monthly visit for March, and an uninformed observer would think that Iruka was some kind of narcissist. An _informed_ observer would know that the mirror he was holding was part of a linked pair, that the other half of the pair had been sent back with Gamato, and that the chuunin's monthly report had instructed the Seventh Hokage to hold his mirror and speak Iruka's name at 2PM today. He'd pulled his mirror out and gotten ready around 1:30 - years of putting up with the Sixth's chronic tardiness had left his successor with a deep appreciation for punctuality, so Iruka knew it was better to be ready a bit early. It had nothing to do with any sort of eagerness to see the face of someone from home for the first time in half a decade, obviously.

At two on the dot, he felt the mirror suddenly warm and start to vibrate in his hand. A tap of his wand later and his reflection was replaced by the familiar sight of the Seventh Hokage sitting at his desk, albeit from a lot closer than Iruka was accustomed to. _«Whoa!»_ Naruto's voice came through, _«This is cool! It's like a pocket-sized version of a video call, y'know? Anyway, hi, Iruka-sensei! Reading that you were okay was good, but it's way better to_ see _it, y'know?»_

«It's good to see you too, Naruto,» Iruka smiled warmly at his former student, «and it's good to see Konoha again. How's everybody doing?»

 _«Pretty good,»_ Naruto replied, _«Shino's kinda taken over the Academy at this point. He's a solid teacher, no question, but he's not exactly the most expressive person ever, y'know? Sometimes the kids just need a few kind words to perk them up, or the Giant Head of Doom to scare them back into line. Oh yeah, and Ayame's been asking about you.»_ His smile turned predatory. _«Do I need to have words with you about being a proper gentleman when you get back?»_

Iruka chuckled, shaking his head. «No, no, we're just friends. I'm afraid you'll have to keep saving your Shovel Talk for whatever boyfriends or girlfriends Himawari-chan eventually brings home.»

 _«Oh, don't worry about that,»_ the Hokage laughed, _«I've got a few of 'em already written up for when that happens. There's even a couple for Boruto's first date, y'know! Granted,»_ he said scratching the back of his head with a wide grin, _«I'll probably ditch the whole scroll and just wing it, but it was still fun coming up with creative threats.»_

Laughter echoed in two offices, literally worlds apart.

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**V**

After a bit more small talk (well, the Hokage's official records listed it as «Verifying the Functionality of Communications Equipment»), the two shinobi had arranged for the next mirror-call to occur during S.E.N.'s next weekend training session, before signing off. Iruka had promptly dashed off notes to Albus and Filius to let them know about the opportunity to meet Naruto, at least after a fashion.

Thus it was that five students and three Professors gathered in the Room that Sunday. The Room itself had provided a set of chairs, and Albus had conjured a stand to hold the mirror. The Headmaster was calmly sitting there as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but there was no way he'd chosen bright orange robes by accident or coincidence.

As with their first conversation, Naruto called exactly on time. _«Hey everybody!»_ he half-shouted, as boisterous and friendly as always. _«I'm Uzumaki Naruto, the Seventh Hokage y'know?»_

"Greetings, Hokage Uzumaki," Albus intoned with a formal tone that didn't quite match his warm smile and twinkling eyes, "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Might I say, your English is excellent."

Naruto looked as confused as Iruka felt. _«Um, I'm not speaking English Albus-sensei.»_

The expression of bafflement spread to the entire group for a moment, until Luna's eyes lit up. "It's the Room!" she explained, "Iruka-sensei wanted a place we could train, as usual, but he must have been thinking about somewhere to talk to Naruto-san when he called up the door. The Room didn't just provide chairs; it's somehow translating for us!"

"That seems the most likely explanation," the Headmaster acknowledged with a smile. "I have spent a full century practicing magic, most of it in this very castle, and yet even now it still manages to surprise me. There are times when I wonder whether we will ever fully grasp the wonder the Founders worked here."

 _«So that's that room you told me about,»_ Naruto asked, _«the one that turns into whatever you need? This magic stuff is awesome, y'know?»_

"It certainly makes life easier," Iruka agreed, "now why don't the rest of those present introduce themselves?"

Filius and the five students each gave their names and greeted Naruto, before someone else in Konoha decided it was time for his own introduction.

 _«YOSH!»_ A deep-voiced bellow blasting out of the mirror caused everyone to flinch back in their seats, and Naruto visibly cringed at his end. _«I am Jounin Maito Gai, Konoha's Sublime Green Beast of Prey! Iruka-san has told us of his students and friends, and how brightly their flames of youth burn!»_ A few words in, Naruto shifted his mirror to point at the bushy-browed taijutsu master, so everyone saw the visible gleam of his grin at the end.

 _«I figured he should be here for this meeting, too, since he was in charge of the research team trying to find you,» Naruto explained, before turning to the rest of the group. «Gai's not exactly the research type, but just about_ nobody _can beat him for motivating people, and I knew he'd be fair with everybody and not just ignore the junior researchers. A few of the team also mentioned that it actually helped having somebody that didn't know their field asking questions - it brought a new perspective, and apparently explaining what you're doing and where you're having a problem is a great way to find a solution. Something to remember when you're doing your homework, y'know?»_

"Indeed," Albus nodded, "I have found much the same. You and your research team are to be commended, Mr. Maito, both for your success and for the tremendous effort it must have required to achieve."

 _«Thank you, Dumbledore-sensei,»_ Gai replied, _«and I will pass your thanks on to my youthful team, but I was merely aiding a comrade as any shinobi of Konoha would.»_

 _«And speaking of Konoha,»_ Naruto chimed in, _«I know it's a small window, but I figured I could give you guys a bit of a look around. I'll be back, Gai.»_ The image in the mirror was little more than a blur of motion for a moment, ending with the familiar setting of the roof of the Hokage Tower. _«Come on in close, get a good look. We're on top of the building I run the village from, and_ those _are the faces of the Hokage.»_ The mirror's view veered around briefly before settling on the stone face of Senjuu Hashirama. _«Here's the First Hokage, one of the founders of Konoha and a generally awesome guy. Next up is the Second, his brother, a bit cold but super smart; he came up with the jutsu that helped my dad and me kick ass!»_ Iruka nearly face-faulted at that line. Naruto's voice turned fond and wistful. _«Third is jiji, the Third Hokage, a.k.a. The Professor, The God of Shinobi, and various other titles. He was one of the first people to acknowledge me. After him is my dad, the Fourth Hokage, Konoha's Yellow Flash, fastest guy ever no matter what A-ojisan says. He and my mom gave their lives saving me and the village. This is baa-chan, the Fifth Hokage, who loves gambling even though she basically never wins. She's an awesome medic, though, and she taught Sakura. Kakashi-sensei's next, and I still half-expect his carving to not be finished yet every time I look up there. And finally, me! I'm usually not that serious-looking though. If you guys want to know more, you can ask Iruka-sensei later; he could use some practice so his lectures on Konoha's history don't get rusty, y'know?»_

The view blurred again, presumably a **shunshin**. _«Of course, if you want to see the village itself, you want to be up_ high. _»_ Judging by the angle, Naruto was standing on the carved head of the Fourth, as was his custom. The village looked just as it had at the time of Iruka's unexpected departure, the great walls and vast forests surrounding it visible in the distance as the view panned around. _«We don't really have time for a full-on tour today, but that'd be better when you guys can come here in person anyway.»_

Another shunshin-blur took the mirror and its holder back to the Hokage's office. _«So, Albus-sensei, Filius-sensei,»_ Naruto said, stumbling more than a little trying to pronounce the foreign names, _«I've been hearing and reading a lot about magic, and those potions and stuff Iruka-sensei's sent have been really neat, but he hasn't exactly been studying it for long enough to be able to really show it off...»_

Albus nodded, understanding immediately, and with a smile and a flourish of his wand conjured a large oak table with beautifully-carved sides and legs. He then turned to Filius with a 'go ahead' gesture, and the Charms Professor obliged by animating the table to prance around the room. The somersault at the end was particularly impressive and drew laughs from many of those watching.

"Hey, Naruto-san," Luna piped up, "could you show us some ninjutsu?"

 _«Sure!»_ Naruto responded _. «What've they seen from you so far, Iruka-sensei?»_

«Mostly fairly basic stuff,» Iruka answered, «the Academy Three, tree-walking and water-walking, Water Clones, some Suiton and Katon, and a couple genjutsu.»

Naruto nodded. _«Well, I guess I could show you guys a few things, though I can't exactly cut loose in my office.»_ His voice trailed off into a grumble. _«One little accident and everybody's yelling at me and making me do extra paperwork...»_

«Naruto,» Iruka sighed, «you blew a _three meter_ _hole_ in your office wall with one of your Rasengan experiments.»

 _«It was an accident, y'know!»_ Naruto said defensively, _«And it was just the one time! How was I supposed to know that chakra mix would be unstable?»_

Albus coughed politely, interrupting the brewing argument. "May I ask what this 'Rasengan' is?"

Naruto smirked and held up his hand, before forming the characteristic orb of swirling chakra. _«_ This _is the Rasengan, one of the most powerful ninjutsu in the world. My dad spent three years developing it, and you can count the number of people that can use it on one hand. The idea's pretty simple in theory, just spinning your chakra in a bunch of different directions in a tight ball. In practice, well, it's like trying to look left and right at the same time, and it takes loads of power to boot. I've got my own versions, various upgrades and variants, but most of 'em tend to result in big craters.»_

"It's rather beautiful, in a way," Filius commented, "particularly if one forgets its lethal purpose. Quite mesmerizing to look at, really."

 _«Yeah, a lot of ninja stuff is like that. It looks cool just showing it off, just try not to think about how it's meant to be used.»_ Naruto let the jutsu dissipate into rapidly-fading wisps of chakra. _«I've got one exception I can think of that's pretty flashy, or should I say_ we've _got one...»_ Between one instant and the next, his entire body flared yellow as he engaged his jinchuuriki cloak. _«This is what happens when Kurama and I are working together. Say 'hi' to everyone, fuzzball!»_

Two arms of glowing golden chakra emerged from Naruto's shoulders. One waved its clawed hand at the mirror, while the other smacked Naruto on the head. _«Yeah, yeah, laugh it up big guy. No, I can't bring out a full manifestation; we're in my office y'know! Do you have any idea what kind of mess that'd make?»_ Everyone in the Room went from quietly chuckling to sweat-dropping as Naruto's argument with his tenant quickly devolved into one side of a shouting match filled with increasingly-juvenile insults.

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**V**

The Horcrux-hunting team had gathered once again, as Albus still had two more memories to show. "Information about Riddle after his time here at Hogwarts is extremely sparse, and much of what can be found is of at best dubious reliability. Outside of his schooling, Tom went largely unremarked by most, keeping a low profile until his emergence as Lord Voldemort. Of the few who did note him, quite a few have died and most of those who still live are or were loyal to him and thus unlikely to divulge any useful truths. Records have been lost or destroyed. In short, it is almost certain that he has made some effort to eliminate any trace of Tom Marvolo Riddle, leaving only the enigmatic Voldemort."

"Makes sense," Sirius commented, "he hated his Muggle roots, along with anything else that didn't set him apart from and above everybody else. Plus it'd be hard to get the blood bigots behind him if they knew he was a half-blood."

Albus nodded. "That is my assessment as well. Now, to set the scene for this first memory, we must look at what Tom did after graduating from Hogwarts. Given his charisma, his ambition, and his love of power and adulation, one would expect his first move to be into politics. With the influential following he already possessed and his complete lack of conscience or scruple, he could well have effected a meteoric rise to the highest echelons of the Ministry or Wizengamot. It is therefore noteworthy that he did not even attempt this route, but instead gained employment at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley."

"Judging by the location," Iruka queried, "I'm guessing that this is something of an unsavory business?"

Remus scoffed. "That's one way of putting it. Another would be that it's Wizarding Britain's primary clearinghouse for Dark artifacts, stolen goods, and other contraband. Of course none of the items you'll find on display are strictly against the law, even if a few are borderline, and they also do a brisk trade in more legitimate antiques, but everybody knows where they make their real money. Even the DMLE knows, but proving it and pulling off a successful prosecution is hard given how many people in the Ministry are bought by those who make use of the shop's more illicit services. They also keep things low-key and don't get involved in any dealings that are _too_ far over the line, so the Aurors tend to just figure better the devil they know."

"After all," the werewolf continued, "Borgin and Burkes have been at it for so long that they're basically the only game in town, so to speak. Shut them down, and at best you'd just get a near-identical replacement taking over in under a month. Just as likely, you'd get half a dozen separate operations that'd be heaps of trouble to track down and monitor, and some of them might start buying things stolen from murder victims, or dealing in the _really_ nasty stuff that Borgin and Burkes have the sense not to touch, or they might end up in a turf war with their competition, or who knows what else."

"So the DMLE leaves them alone, more or less, preferring an ugly but stable status quo over the unpredictable and likely chaotic aftermath of trying to actually improve it?" Iruka concluded. "That's not that unusual. Arrangements like that were pretty common before the Fourth War, and even afterward they've not exactly disappeared."

"As interesting as this digression is," Albus cut in, "perhaps we might return to the topic at hand?" At the three younger men's chastised nods, he continued. "Borgin and Burkes was not actually Tom's first choice, but his second. His first attempt at finding employment was here at Hogwarts, where he sought to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. In what I feel was a fortuitous decision, then-Headmaster Dippet refused citing Tom's youth and lack of experience, suggesting that he return and reapply once had become more seasoned."

Sirius looked horrified. "Bloody hell," he breathed, "imagine having You-Know-Who right here at Hogwarts. I don't even want to think about the stuff he'd do to the Muggleborns."

"I don't want to think about how many impressionable children he'd have been able to indoctrinate," Remus retorted.

Albus nodded gravely. "It was the only decision Armando made regarding the young Riddle that I agree with," he stated, earning an irritated huff that the portrait of his predecessor unsuccessfully tried to pass off as a snore. "Regardless, with that avenue at least temporarily closed to him, Tom took a position that granted him access to a wide variety of items from Dark artifacts to rare tomes to valuable antiques. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"The memory which we are about to watch," the Headmaster continued, "comes from a house-elf named Hokey, who worked for a witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."

Entering the Pensieve, the four wizards found themselves in a room that Iruka would describe as 'cluttered' were it not for the fact that 'clutter' implied a disorderly mess. This room was very ordered, very neat and clean, but also very... _full_. Shelves, cabinets, tables and the like occupied nearly all of the available space, and were themselves occupied by numerous varied and expensive-looking items. It was so packed that there was hardly anywhere to stand, and Albus was compensating by taking advantage of the memory's insubstantial nature to actually stand _in_ a table laden with polished crystal orbs in ornate stands.

Before them stood a woman of considerable age and even more considerable girth, wearing an unconvincing ginger wig and garish pink robes that even Dolores Umbridge might consider overdone. She was applying excessive amounts of makeup while barking orders at her elf Hokey, who looked even more elderly than her mistress. Judging by the aged witch's behavior, she was clearly besotted with the male visitor she was expecting.

It was little surprise that the guest led in by Hokey was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle, a few years older than the version Iruka had faced in the Chamber and grown into a very handsome young man. The young Voldemort-to-be easily charmed his host, who fawned over him and lapped up his attentions. Iruka would have been interested to see the goblin-made armor that Tom's employer sought to buy, but instead two other items were brought forth in leather boxes lined with silken cushions.

A harsh red light flickered in Riddle's eyes briefly as he reached out for a golden cup - a sign, perhaps, of his extensive delving into Dark magics? Regardless, his polite mask slipped briefly, as he bore a look of unvarnished greed while examining the item. The reason for his avarice was made clear when the cup was revealed to be a relic of Helga Hufflepuff. His expression momentarily turned even darker than before when Smith took the cup back.

Sirius audibly sucked in a breath as the next item was brought out. Iruka didn't blame him for reacting so strongly to seeing the locket his brother had died over. In the memory, the young Voldemort also reacted more intensely than he had with the cup. There was no real way to tell if this was because the locket was associated with the Slytherin line, because of its connection to his mother, or both. Regardless, even the elderly witch noticed that something was off about her young guest, but the moment soon passed.

Hokey departed with the two artifacts to return them to storage, the memory ended, and the four men emerged from the Pensieve. "It will not surprise you, I think, that Hepzibah Smith died a mere two days after these events," Albus said, "having ingested poison in her evening cocoa. Poor old Hokey was convicted by the Ministry of having mistaken a lethal and little-known poison for sugar. The whole affair was blamed on her being old and confused. She was not put to death, as would have been the case were the act deemed to be deliberate, and thus I was able to obtain this memory shortly before her death."

"It took Madam Smith's family some time after her passing to fully inventory her collection," Albus continued, "due both to its extensive size and to her habit of hiding away her most prized items. When they finished, they discovered that two particular artifacts were missing."

"No prizes for guessing which two," Sirius scoffed.

"Quite," Albus replied. "By that time, the young assistant from Borgin and Burkes who had so often called upon her had resigned his position and vanished, leaving no indication as to where he had gone." He used his wand to move the memory back into its phial as he spoke. "It would be another ten years before Tom Riddle was seen in Britain, and it is from that point that this final memory comes. This particular recollection was by far the easiest to obtain, for reasons I hope you will find obvious," he said as he brought his wandtip to his temple.

It was profoundly odd, Iruka felt, falling into the Pensieve only to land exactly where you'd been standing moments before. Of course, years of training in using, recognizing, and countering genjutsu allowed the chuunin to spot that it _wasn't_ truly the same office. A moment's glance at his surroundings showed countless minor differences, mostly in the assortment and arrangement of books and trinkets. The snow falling outside the window was a much more obvious clue.

A knock on the office door prompted the slightly younger-looking Dumbledore of the memory to invite his guest in. As Albus had indicated, the man who entered was easily recognizable as Tom Marvolo Riddle, though gone was the handsome young man they'd seen in other memories: His skin was deathly pale, in sharp contrast with his long black cloak, and his sclera were bloodshot. Riddle's features seemed distorted, almost artificial-looking, like a good-but-imperfect mask or the face of an embalmed cadaver.

As the former teacher and student exchanged pleasantries, few would have suspected that the two could become mortal enemies in the years to come, but to the eye of a trained shinobi a subtle but distinct tension was visible. Dumbledore's posture, while seemingly relaxed, nonetheless was that of a man surreptitiously readying himself against an attack, and both held their wine goblets in their left hands, keeping their wand hands free.

The Headmaster's insistence on using Riddle's given name rather than his chosen alias heightened the tension, but it also visibly got under the Dark-Lord-to-be's skin. 'First blood for Albus,' Iruka thought. Dumbledore chided his visitor's single-minded focus on Dark magic, and Riddle adopted a smile that wouldn't look foreign on Orochimaru, again recalling the superficial similarities between the two madmen. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore." His smug dismissal of love was rather ironic, considering its role in his defeat at Godric's Hollow.

Words became more heated, and the thin veneer of civility quickly crumbled as Albus revealed a far greater knowledge about Voldemort and his Death Eaters than the man in question had expected. In moments, all pretenses were dropped as the Headmaster probed Riddle about his true motives in seeking a job he didn't truly want and knew he wouldn't get. The banter turned sharp-edged, before Dumbledore explicitly accused Voldemort of having some ulterior motive in his visit. Something about this shattered the Dark wizard's composure, to the point where he very nearly drew his wand, but in the end he stormed out of the office.

Once the door slammed, the four wizards left the past and returned to the present, as before landing precisely where they'd been standing before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using an idiomatic translation for Naruto's verbal tic. Appending "y'know" to everything is a lot closer than the "believe it!" used in the anime (which was chosen to more closely match the mouth movement).
> 
> The mirror-conference-call took me forever to write - you might notice that it spent a couple chapters as my current WIP back in Book 2. I got seriously stuck on that conversation for weeks, before finally getting the inspirations that produced the last third or so.
> 
> Also, huh, I did not realize that it's "Borgin and Burkes" not "Borgin and Burke's", but if that's how it's written in the book then that's how I'm writing it.


	12. Into Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A substantial portion of this chapter is an exploration of events that are mentioned and briefly described in canon but never properly shown. I won't be offended if you decide to skim through and/or skip over those parts, but I felt that since Iruka will be a direct(ish) witness and it's not gone over in any detail in canon that I should do my best to actually write out those scenes rather than just summarizing them.

Once the memory of the door slammed, the four wizards left the past and returned to the present, as before landing precisely where they'd been standing before.

"Merlin," Sirius breathed as he sat heavily in his chair, "seeing those two back-to-back, you have to wonder what turned pretty-boy Tom into something that looked like a monster trying to pass for human. How much Dark magic does that _take_?"

"Far more than any good or reasonable wizard would touch," Albus replied, "of that I am certain. I suspect, though it obviously cannot be proven, that his creation of Horcruxes played a significant role in his transformation. With each one of those abominations he made, he tore away more of his soul, more of his _humanity_. Beyond that, it is likely that he performed one or more foul rituals seeking to enhance himself somehow, as some of his physical and magical feats during the war were beyond the capability of a wizard of even Tom Riddle's caliber. Dark magic always exacts a toll on its user, however, and given Tom's boast of pushing the boundaries of the Dark Arts farther than anyone prior, the cumulative impact of his fell experimentation must have been horrific indeed."

"The question remains, though," Iruka cut in, "why _did_ he come here again? He didn't want to teach, and he knew you wouldn't let him. There must have been some other reason, as you said, and his reaction bears that out."

"The question, indeed," the Headmaster nodded, "though I wouldn't say that Tom had _no_ interest in the job. You see, he was seeking the post of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and since then I have been unable to retain anyone in that position for more than one year. It seems most plausible to me that Tom lashed out, as he was always wont to do when denied that which he desired, and cursed the position out of spite."

"Could that have been his plan going in?" Remus asked, "After all, years of spotty Defense instruction didn't exactly do my generation any favors when it came to fighting the Death Eaters and their allies. Most of Riddle's younger recruits had access to their families' knowledge of Dark magic to make up the difference."

"Not to mention prigs like Malfoy with their private tutors," Sirius snarled.

"That might be it," Iruka allowed, "but something just doesn't fit. It's too small a payoff - Riddle strikes me as the type to go for big plays whenever possible, especially those aimed at spectacular results. He doesn't just want power, he wants people to _know_ he has power."

"In other words, he's a drama queen with a huge ego," Black quipped.

Albus coughed politely. "Be that as it may, I have yet to discern any other motive for his visit that day, save for a token effort at obtaining a position through which he could influence the young and impressionable minds of Hogwarts' student body. Now, what have we learned from these two memories and the tales surrounding them?"

"He frames other people for his crimes," Remus observed, "first the murder of Myrtle, then his family, then Smith, and who knows what others before, since, or in-between?"

"Must be where the _rat_ learned it," Sirius growled darkly.

"He's aware that his actions have consequences," the werewolf continued hastily, "he just doesn't want those consequences to fall on _him_. Again we see plenty of fear but absolutely no empathy or remorse."

Iruka nodded. "He also _really_ doesn't take it well when people tell him 'no'. It's his ego again; in his mind, he's _special_ and _important_ and therefore entitled to whatever he wants, so he's outraged at being denied or frustrated. Combine that with his lack of empathy or restraint, and I wouldn't be surprised if he murdered people for even the most trivial of slights, whether real or imagined."

"That _is_ consistent with what I know of his behaviour," Albus frowned, "including towards his own followers. Angering Voldemort in any way - whether by disobedience, failure, or even simply bringing bad news - generally resulted in at least a painful hex or curse, and not infrequently torture or even death. Every Death Eater knew to avoid their master when he was in a foul mood unless they could provide another target for him to vent his spleen upon."

"Putting the gritty details of Riddle's personality aside," Iruka said, "we should get back to the Horcruxes. If he made more than the two we've found, as you suspect, we need to look at what and where they might be. You said before that you had two objects in mind: I'm guessing that you're referring to the Gaunt ring and Hufflepuff's cup?"

"That makes sense," Remus commented, "since we know he was fond of keeping trophies. If he wanted special items to hold his soul fragments, what could be more special than his precious trophies?"

"But wait," Sirius said, "how does the diary fit in, then? I mean, the other three things would be expensive just on their own, with the locket and cup's connections to the Founders just adding to that. A diary from a Muggle stationery store couldn't be worth more than a Sickle."

"Trophies, Sirius," the werewolf explained, "the diary was a tangible reminder of his first kill, of being the only known wizard since the Founders to uncover the Chamber of Secrets, of terrorizing the entire school and getting away with it all."

Albus nodded. "There is also the fact that the diary was almost certainly Tom's first Horcrux, made at a time when he had no access to precious relics or family heirlooms."

"So we're looking for important or valuable historical items that have gone missing, or whatever he happened to have in his pocket the day he did something particularly evil?" Sirius sounded neither confident nor enthusiastic.

"I doubt he'd have gone with an ordinary object again," Iruka replied, "not once he'd started getting his hands on more valuable things. Albus's explanation makes sense, the diary was the best he had available, especially since he was probably in a hurry to get his first Horcrux made and secure his immortality. He wouldn't have settled for something so mundane later on, when he had access to better prizes and the luxury of time. So that's the diary and the locket, both destroyed, probably the cup and ring, yet to be found, and possibly further items we haven't identified yet. Any other ideas on that front?" A round of head-shakes was his answer.

"That's what we've got on the 'what'," prompted Remus, "now what about the 'where'? We know Malfoy had the diary, so other prominent Death Eaters might have been given Horcruxes to guard..."

"Bet You-Know-Who will be less than pleased with ol' Lucius when he finds out, yeah?" Sirius smiled viciously, before sobering somewhat. "My _dear_ cousin Bella seems like the most likely guess for who he'd give one of those things to: She was totally devoted to him, and not exactly shy about it, and one of his best fighters to boot. Of course, if he _did_ give one to her it won't be easy getting her to give it up. Please tell me the DMLE at least bothered to search the properties of the Death Eaters they actually managed to convict?"

Albus nodded. "All were searched thoroughly, with special care given to the Lestrange and Rookwood properties. Any Dark artifacts in those locations that could be found without the aid of the homeowners _have_ been found and dealt with. That does not discount the possibility that they could have hidden a Horcrux elsewhere, or that one or more of the Death Eaters still at liberty might have one."

"So every Death Eater, free, imprisoned, or dead, is a potential lead," Iruka sighed, "which means a _lot_ of possibilities to work through in that direction." He frowned in thought. "Sirius, did Kreacher tell you _where_ Riddle originally hid that locket?"

Sirius scowled. "Yeah, some cave on the ocean, with a big underground lake inside full of Inferi."

"A cave?" Iruka blinked. "Albus, in your memory of the orphanage..."

"Indeed," the Headmaster mused, "my thoughts have run along similar lines, I believe. A seaside outing would already have been a fond memory for one who grew up in such conditions, but for Tom Riddle the true relish would have been in his exercise of power over the other children. In a sense, one could say that the location itself is a sort of trophy to him, one he claimed by hiding one of his greatest treasures there, along with the reanimated remains of an unknown number of his later victims. Regardless, we should consider and investigate other locations important to Tom in some way."

"The orphanage, for starters," Sirius said, "along with his parents' houses and maybe wherever they lived together when he was conceived. It sounds like Hepzibah Smith's house was searched top to bottom after she died, though it's possible he came back later. I'd suggest Borgin and Burkes, hiding a tree in a forest sort of thing, but they'd probably find it and sell it off."

Iruka hesitated. "If you're looking into insight on what Riddle would have valued, Harry might be your best resource. While the paths they've taken go in nearly opposite directions, their backgrounds are similar enough that he might have insights we don't."

Albus shook his head. "While it may come to that eventually, I would much prefer to keep the children out of this, for as long as possible if not forever. Even adults should not have to delve into such dark topics, but better we do it than they."

The chuunin nodded reluctantly. "Harry's told me a lot about himself the past few years, so I'll give you my best approximation of his thoughts, but nothing can replace firsthand experience." There was _something_ niggling at the back of his mind, something _important_ , but he just couldn't get hold of it.

"Very well." The Headmaster stood, and his guests did the same. "Remus, if I gave you the address of Wool's Orphanage, could you check for me whether it is still in operation and if not, what has taken its place? Sirius, I know it is a painful topic for you but I must ask you to have Kreacher show you where the sea-cave is, and pass me its location. Copies of his memories of both his visits would be ideal. Iruka, please ponder the information we have in light of Harry's and your experiences, and inform me if you should glean any new insights." Their tasks assigned, the three men took their leave.

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Near the end of the first full week of May, the quartet of Horcrux hunters gathered again. All were grim, knowing what this meeting's memories contained. Sirius in particular was pale and unkempt, looking more like he had before his release from Saint Mungo's.

"You do not need to watch either of these with us, Sirius." Albus's voice was filled with pained sympathy. "I have witnessed the death of my own younger sibling, and it is not an experience I would wish upon anyone. In fact, given what you've already suffered, I would strongly advise _against_ joining us in this for the sake of your own health."

"None of us will think any less of you if you sit this out," Iruka added.

Sirius shook his head vehemently. "No. Ever since Kreacher told us about how Reggie died, it's been eating away at me. I know what we're going to see is horrible, but it can't be worse than what my imagination and my nightmares have already shown me. He won't be begging me to save him..." That last sentence was mumbled so quietly that Iruka felt like an eavesdropper for hearing it. Remus's pained look showed that he'd caught it too, and he put an arm around his friend's shoulders, gripping him tight in reassurance to help ground him in the here and now.

"I have to see it," he continued. "Regulus deserves to have someone from our family bear witness."

Albus seemed to droop somewhat in place. "Very well, if that is your wish." He poured the first of the two memories into the Pensieve, and all four dove in, landing in what was clearly the kitchen of what Iruka presumed to be the Black family home on Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was there, polishing a set of ornate dishware.

A young man then stepped into the room. He looked to be in his late teens, with dark hair, gray eyes, and an unmistakable resemblance to Sirius. "Kreacher," he said firmly but not unkindly, "The Dark Lord requires your service. You will go with him and do as he tells you. Any orders from him are to be obeyed as my own. Return when your task is finished." He gestured behind him.

"As Master Regulus commands," Kreacher croaked with a bow, before turning walking out of the kitchen and up into the entryway. Waiting for him was a Lord Voldemort that had changed further since the time of the last memory: His skin was as pale as a bloodless corpse, with an unnatural sheen; his lips were basically non- existent, his mouth just a thin line currently quirked in a supremely confident smirk, and his once delicately-pointed nose had flattened and receded into his face as if he'd run into a brick wall at high speed. It was his eyes, however, that were most striking, now having luminous red irises surrounded by red sclera.

The elf walked up to the Voldemort and bowed. "Kreacher is at the Dark Lord's service."

"Excellent," Riddle said. "In that case, I must be off. Come, elf." The two stepped out into the entryway. "Wait ten seconds, then follow," Voldemort commanded Kreacher before Disapparating.

Ten seconds later, the vista changed to a damp cave, the sound of nearby ocean waves coming from the entrance. Voldemort stood by the wall of the cave near the back. "Your hand," he ordered, and Kreacher extended one wrinkled hand. A twitch of a yew wand opened an ugly gash in Kreacher's palm, with a second twitch directing the stream of blood from that cut to fly out and splash against the stone. Almost instantly silver-white light streamed from the rock face, as if the outline of an arched doorway had been backlit by a brilliant moon. "Impressive, is it not? A payment of blood, forcing any intruder to sacrifice a portion of their strength and vitality merely to open the door, weakening them before they even properly enter my defenses."

"The Dark Lord is a wise and powerful wizard," Kreacher fawned, the wizard nodding as if accepting his due.

Riddle stepped through the archway into the darkness beyond, a negligent gesture conjuring a cold green flame over his left palm to light the way. Kreacher followed obediently, clutching his wounded hand. The pale light from the magical flames showed a vast cavern, easily hundreds of meters across and over a dozen high, its floor dominated by an underground lake with a surface as calm and smooth as polished glass. A greenish glow also shone some distance away across the water, its source too far to see clearly. Neither light source seemed to reach as far as they should given their brightness, as if the darkness of the cave ate away at their illumination.

"Do not disturb the water," came the command, and Kreacher gave a silent nod as he trailed after the Dark Lord. "This cave is a place of fond memory for me," Riddle said idly as two walked along the narrow ledge of stone between the cavern wall and the edge of the lake, "one of the first times I showed a couple of worthless Muggles the true power of magic. It holds a prized piece of my past, and soon it will hold far more - both of the past and of an unending future..." After several minutes of travel, it seemed clear that the other glow was coming from at or near the lake's center. Finally, at a spot that seemed no different from any other, Voldemort reached out and tapped his wand on what appeared to be thin air but sounded like metal. A chain appeared, the green of aged copper, emerging from the water with its end hovering over the lake's edge. With a second tap, the chain began to rapidly pull in towards the wall, coiling on the stone beside Voldemort's feet, and eventually pulling a small wooden boat (that _also_ glowed green) to the water's surface.

Once the tiny vessel, which looked too small and rickety to hold even one person safely, had fully surfaced, Riddle confidently stepped aboard. "Come." Kreacher did as he was told, carefully clambering into the boat to crouch at the wizard's feet. The boat turned and began smoothly gliding towards the glow at the lake's center. Both this movement and its earlier emergence produced far less of a disturbance in the water's surface than they should, and those ripples that did form died out unnaturally quickly.

As the boat slid through the still, black water, a pale form came into view. Floating unmoving just below the water's surface was a human body, what was once a brown-haired girl in her late teens wearing a Muggle sundress. Her open eyes, clouded over in death, stared sightlessly upward into the darkness that hid the cavern's ceiling. "Ah," Voldemort commented smugly, "I see you've noticed one of my little guardians. They sleep beneath the water, waiting and ready to destroy any who might seek to take what is mine. Gathering the raw materials for so many was one of the more time-consuming parts of preparing this place, a tedious but rewarding process." She was not the only one, either, as the boat passed two other such figures over the five or so minutes it took to reach its destination.

That destination, it turned out, was a small island of the same rock as the rest of the cave. It was round and flat, indicating that the stone had been worked in some way, and about the same diameter as the office from which the four men had entered this memory. Also like the Headmaster's office, there was a stone basin set at its center, though this one rested on a stone pedestal rather than the Headmaster's desk. Looking closer, both the basin and the pedestal were, in spite of the sinister carvings of snakes entwining around them, formed of a single seamless piece of stone extending up from the island's floor. The glow they'd seen all this time was coming from the basin's contents.

Voldemort walked over to the basin, which was filled with a luminous green potion unlike anything Iruka had yet seen, and with a smug smirk conjured a passable replica of Hufflepuff's Cup. "Nothing can touch this potion except with the intent of bringing it to a drinker's mouth. Should even a drop touch the stones beneath us or be carried over the water, my loyal soldiers will awaken." He held this cup by one of its handles, using it to scoop some of the potion from the basin before holding it out to Kreacher. "Drink it all. Allow none to spill."

Kreacher took the ornate vessel reverently, and began to drink as ordered. After only a couple of swallows it was clear that he was in distress, something that brought a cruel grin to Riddle's face. Once the cup was empty, the Dark Lord held his hand out and the elf obediently returned it, clutching at his abdomen with his other hand and glancing furtively at the lake. "No," Voldemort chuckled, "you may drink nothing but this potion until it is all gone. Until I say otherwise, you may not touch water." His smile widened at the elf's poorly-hidden expression of dismay.

Again and again, Riddle refilled the cup from the basin and handed it to Kreacher, and with every cupful the elf's suffering became more profound. After the third his eyes began darting around wildly, looking at horrors only he could see. After four he started to mutter and mumble and plead unintelligibly. After five Voldemort had to reinforce his order to drink, so great was Kreacher's reluctance. All the while, the Dark wizard's pleasure and satisfaction and the watchers' disgust and horror grew along with the elf's pain and fear.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to those viewing the memory, the basin was emptied, its last dregs actually flowing eagerly up and into the cup on the last scoop. Only then did Voldemort reach into his robes and withdraw a very familiar locket, holding it out examining it, seemingly admiring how it shined in the light cast by his magical flame. "The locket of Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Founders and the only one among them wise enough to recognize the worthlessness of Muggles and those that cling to them. It opens only to those of his noble lineage - a worthy vessel to safeguard a part of the wizard who will one day rule all of magic, wouldn't you say? Truly a pity that I must hide it away like this, at least for now. Perhaps once my rule is absolute and those who would defy me have been ground to dust, it and my other treasures can be put on display so that all might bear witness to my full greatness." His boasting done, he placed the locket in the very bottom of the basin. Once the locket and its chain came to rest, droplets of that vile potion began to appear on the inner surface of the basin, seeming to seep out from the pores of the very stone itself. What began as a slow sweating sped up, refilling the basin within only a few minutes, all while an agonized Kreacher stood nearby.

"Perfection," Riddle nodded in smug satisfaction, before turning and stepping back into the small boat. As it began its return journey across the subterranean lake he looked to the house-elf one last time. "Very well done," he said in condescending mock-pride. "Your task is finished, and with it, your use to me. I cannot, after all, allow anyone else to know where I've secured my soul. However, Lord Voldemort is merciful," his grin grew wider, "so I reward your obedient service with my permission to sate your thirst." He turned away then, soon vanishing into the darkness to the echoing sound of his cruel, mocking laughter.

Kreacher collapsed to the stone then, before desperately crawling his way to the edge of the island and drinking greedily from the lake. Within seconds, pale hands exploded from the water and dragged him below. He struggled for several minutes, before the delirium in his eyes seemed to clear for a moment and the scenery abruptly changed back to a bedroom in what was presumably Grimmauld Place with a loud crack.

"Kreacher!" came the frantic shout from Regulus Black as he leapt from his bed and dashed over to cradle the huddled form of his sodden and trembling house-elf. "Oh, Kreacher, what did the Dark Lord _do_ to you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monologuing. Not even once. Aside from the obvious need for Regulus to have enough clues to identify the locket as a Horcrux sight-unseen, I do have an in-story reason for Riddle's chattiness that'll be explained next chapter.
> 
> Hooray for having to reference two separate books to write the same bloody scene.
> 
> Sirius's reasons for watching both memories go beyond what he says here. He's also still dealing with some massive unresolved guilt and grief over Regulus's death, blaming himself for not giving his brother a supportive person to turn to for help. On top of that, there's the unconscious drive to live up to the stereotype of the courageous Gryffindor, which in this case is motivating some distinctly unhealthy choices.


	13. Missing

The memory ended then, ejecting the four wizards back into the Headmaster's office where they promptly sat heavily in their chairs. A wave of Albus's wand brought out a bottle of brandy and poured out four generous glasses, which a second wave distributed. "I think it best," his voice was strained, "that we take this opportunity to recover from that experience before forging ahead. While we do so, perhaps we might share our observations?"

Sirius took a greedy sip with shaking hands. "I've been a right bloody bastard to Kreacher. When I get back to Grimmauld I'm apologizing to him, and then probably having a good cry and getting utterly pissed." Albus and Iruka both shot meaningful looks at Remus, who nodded resolutely. He'd make sure his friend was looked after.

"Those looked like Inferi," the werewolf spoke next, elaborating at Iruka's look of confusion, "dead bodies reanimated by Dark magic to act as servants or soldiers. They're not alive, just mindless puppets, but they're strong, fast, fearless, and either resistant or immune to most forms of magical attack. Alone you might be able to dismember one, but in large numbers the only real defense is fire and lots of it; for whatever reason magic seems unable to protect dead flesh from burning, so that's the one universal weakness Inferi have. Part of the commands included in most Inferi is to avoid or even flee from fire."

"Magic might not be able to save them, but the water they're covered in might provide some protection," Iruka observed, "and the lake itself would give them a safe place to retreat to where fire can't reach them. And of course, being dead they presumably don't need to breathe, so they can wait as long as they need to. Credit where credit's due, that's a smart combination."

"What concerns me," Albus chimed in, "is Tom's mention of 'gathering raw materials'. Given the lack of decay on those Inferi we saw, it seems likely that they were not made using bodies pilfered from graveyards as is the more common method historically. That lake may well be the resting place of many of those people who went missing during his rise."

"Is there any way of safely retrieving them," Iruka asked, "remove or cancel the spells that animate them so they could be identified and returned to their families for a proper burial? It would probably bring at least some closure to a lot of people."

"It might be possible," Dumbledore allowed, "though it would undoubtedly be quite difficult, especially considering their likely numbers. Such an endeavor would also best be postponed until after we are certain that Lord Voldemort is permanently gone, as there would be no way of hiding the return of so many people's remains. Tom would undoubtedly realize the implications of such a thing, placing our current effort in grave jeopardy."

"What I want to know," Sirius said, his voice and hands noticeably steadier even if his glass was already near-empty, "is why the bastard was so chatty? I'm not complaining, mind - it's probably how Reg was able to figure out what he was dealing with, but it's still a bit odd."

"Is it, though?" Albus's voice took on an instructor's tone. "Tom is prideful, immensely so, perhaps second only to his fearfulness. He desires not only power but worship and adulation. From Severus's reports during the last war Lord Voldemort would often boast of his power, his accomplishments, et cetera. Why then would he not like to boast of his self-determined brilliance in the defenses around his Horcrux? To do so would negate the purpose of hiding it in the first place and greatly weaken its defense, but ah, a solution presents itself in Kreacher. I have no doubt whatsoever that Tom never had any intention or expectation that Kreacher would leave that cave alive, or leave it at all for that matter. With wards in place to block Apparition and Portkeys, he would think it all but impossible for anyone to enter or escape except through the path he had defended."

"And so," the Headmaster continued, "we see his efforts undone twice over by his own hubris and bigotry. He dismissed house-elves as nothing more than useful vermin, never understanding that they have their own magics which we wizards little understand, and through this oversight Kreacher's escape became possible. As I said, his need to boast of his achievements handed Kreacher vital information which he carried back to young Regulus."

"What about that first protection," Iruka asked, "the door that needed blood to open? It seemed... clumsy, I guess? The amount of blood it seemed to take just wasn't enough to slow most people down - I've lost more than that from some nosebleeds." Stupid sexy Naruto. "That doesn't even account for the existence of Blood-Replenishing Potions. Riddle seems do be drastically overestimating that defense."

Albus nodded. "It is rather crude, yes, and once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

There was a lull, then, each man falling back into his own thoughts for a minute.

"So..." Remus finally broke the silence, "anything else?"

"Aside from some irrelevant questions about various possible ways to get around the defenses on that basin?" Iruka shook his head. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment." His negative gesture was mirrored by Sirius and Albus.

"Having spoken to Kreacher at some greater length than Sirius and Remus were able to initially," the Headmaster said, "I found that from the end of that memory Regulus Black nursed Kreacher back to health, learning from him about the events we just witnessed. Apparently that potion has two major effects upon the drinker: It causes nightmarish visions, while also causing one's insides to burn with pain and unbearable thirst. Both symptoms worsen as more of the potion is consumed."

"During Kreacher's recovery," he continued, "his account of Voldemort's words led Regulus to research in the Black family library. Sirius was kind enough to loan me those volumes which Kreacher recalled his master finding most helpful," the Headmaster said with a nod to the pale wizard. "Regulus was able to deduce the nature of the locket, and his disgust at such a foul magic combined with his outrage on Kreacher's behalf and the growing doubts he'd already been having about the righteousness of Voldemort's cause, all driving him to act. He composed a short note, which he placed inside a locket which was an heirloom of the Black family. It is shortly after this that our second trial of the day begins."

Standing and putting aside his half-finished brandy, Albus withdrew the first memory from his Pensieve and poured in a second. The other three likewise stood, stepping reluctantly towards the Headmaster's desk and, steeling themselves for what was to come, dove in to watch the death of a hero.

Once again the quartet found themselves in a memory of Grimmauld Place, looking at Kreacher and Regulus Black. This time, the wizard looked far less composed, his hair and clothing somewhat rumpled, his skin slightly paler, and dark circles under eyes that nonetheless burned with resolve and purpose. In one hand he held an ornate old locket similar in size and design to Slytherin's, though without the "S" marked out in emeralds on the face. In the other was a simple wooden ladle.

"Kreacher," he said, "we have an important task today. The locket the Dark Lord used you to help hide is a piece of the foulest of magic, and must be destroyed. He has committed an utterly unforgiveable act, sullied Magic itself with his vileness. We are going to steal away his treasure so that it may be destroyed, leaving this in its place so that only the deepest of investigation will reveal that we have stripped away his perverse form of immortality. You will take me to where he hid his locket, and I will drink the potion that protects it. If I falter, you must make sure that I continue to drink, and that we both avoid the water. Once the potion is all gone, the lockets must be switched, and the one he defiled _must_ be taken away and destroyed at any cost. Do you understand?"

The house-elf nodded. "Kreacher understands. Kreacher lives to serve great Master Regulus and the House of Black."

"Good," Regulus smiled wanly, "then let's not wait." He reached out the hand holding the locket, grasping Kreacher's hand, and suddenly all was darkness except for a familiar green glow.

Wizard and elf stood on the small island, right next to the basin whose contents were the only source of light present. Regulus looked around curiously while Kreacher swayed on his feet somewhat, clearly drained from carrying his master. "Cheery," the Black scion commented sarcastically, prompting a slightly watery chuckle from his brother, before noting his servant's fatigued state and frowning grimly. Iruka recognized his expression at that moment, having seen it before on fellow shinobi both friend and foe: It was the look of someone choosing to make the ultimate sacrifice to complete their mission and protect their comrades.

Regulus turned to the basin and used the ladle to scoop out some of the potion. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to drink.

The four wizards viewing the memory watched in silence as the young man drank again and again. They watched as the shrinking pool of potion diminished the light until a snap of Kreacher's fingers created a glowing white spark a meter above the basin. They watched as Kreacher tearfully urged him, "Master Regulus must keep drinking!" and "No, Master Regulus must stay away from the water!" They watched as the teenager sobbed and begged and pleaded for mercy, only to drink more of that evil green liquid.

After more than ten torturous minutes, the basin was empty of potion. Regulus collapsed to the stone, the ladle falling from his limp fingers. "Lockets," he moaned.

Kreacher took the locket from his master's hand, and clambered up the pedestal. He reached into the basin, switching the Black locket for Slytherin's, then hastily let go and dropped back to the floor as more potion began to seep from the stone. "Kreacher has the Dark Lord's nasty locket," he croaked, holding it out triumphantly while panting from the exertion.

"It must-" the wizard rasped, "it must be destroyed! Take it back home and destroy it!" His eyes were wild with terror and pain. "Tell no one in the family, don't let them warn him!" He stopped then, as his writhing had turned him enough that the lake's water was in his full view, and began crawling towards the island's edge. Kreacher tried to stop him, but Regulus's fevered strength was too much for the exhausted elf to overcome. Even when the Inferi responded to his intrusion on their domain, he managed to struggle against them long enough to cry out, "Take it and go!" before being dragged in.

With a crack, Kreacher returned to the Black family's kitchen, where he collapsed to the floor with a mournful wail.

Emerging back in the Headmaster's office, the four men once again collapsed into their chairs. Sirius slumped forward, elbows on knees and face in hands, his shoulders shaking as he wept for his brother.

Albus quickly came back to himself, pulling out several small flasks. He rose and extended one to Sirius first. "Drink this, Sirius, please." At the man's confused expression, he explained. "A Calming Draught; it should give you some time to process what we've just witnessed. Take it." Sirius nodded numbly, taking the flask and fumbling with the stopper for a moment before quaffing the contents. Almost instantly, some of the tension left his frame, though this only left him looking as badly affected as the other three in the room instead of utterly distraught.

Both Remus and Iruka refused the Draughts they were offered, leaving the Headmaster to put them away and instead refill everyone's brandies before taking his seat again. "Having witnessed that," he said thickly, "I intend to see to it that once Voldemort is defeated once and for all, Regulus Black is nominated for and receives the Order of Merlin, First Class. If our nation had a higher honor, I would suggest that instead. The courage and strength of character his actions required demands no less and deserves far more." Iruka, Remus, and Sirius all nodded in agreement.

"I didn't see anything in that memory that seemed like it could help us find more Horcruxes," Iruka commented, "but at the same time I think somebody needed to watch that memory, to understand the level of Regulus Black's sacrifice. Since we're the only ones that can be told about it right now..." No more needed to be said, and the four men silently nursed their brandies for a moment before a joyful trill announced the return of Fawkes swooping in through an open window. The phoenix took one brief glance around the room before beginning to softly croon. Even without words his song spoke to all of them of courage, of heroism, of sacrifice, of loss, and of love. All of them felt the soothing effects, and a warmth within far beyond what could be attributed to the brandy. Eventually, the fiery bird fell silent, bowing his head in mournful solidarity, and until their meeting broke up the only things heard in the Headmaster's office were the snores of the portraits, the ticking and whirring of Albus's assortment of gadgets, and the sound of four men sipping their badly-needed brandy.

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The rest of May almost flew by, along with much of June. With the two-way mirrors available, communication with Konoha was much faster and easier: Not only did Iruka get the opportunity to catch up more directly with his friends back home, he was able to loan his mirror to some of his students and colleagues in Hogwarts to allow Naruto and others to speak with them directly. Granted, most of these talks had to make use of the Room of Requirement's translation abilities, but it was still a whole new level of interaction.

Sirius, when Iruka saw him, remained much more somber and less animated than he'd been previously, though he seemed to be gradually recovering from the horrors they'd witnessed.

Gamato was no longer being sent every month because even those small trips took a huge expenditure of Naruto's chakra, something those at both ends felt was better saved for when it was needed now that they had a clear line of communications. The Toad courier could still be sent if goods or materiel needed to be transferred between worlds, but by the current plan his next visit would be in early August with enough chakra to bring Iruka back with him. As much as he missed Konoha, the chuunin knew he'd be missing his British friends and students for the year or two it would most likely take to fully prep a transport circle paired with the one he was even now only around three-quarters done with in a remote long-abandoned storeroom in Hogwarts.

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**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

On the twenty-fourth of June, Hogwarts was a zoo. The Third Task would commence that evening, which meant that both press and Ministry personnel were swarming over the grounds, while the three Champions' families had been brought in early to support their children/siblings. Of course, Iruka thought a touch morbidly, given the prior mortality rate of the Triwizard Tournament it was probably also a chance for each Champion and their family to see each other one last time, just in case...

The assembled spectators were beginning to crowd their way into the twilit Quidditch stands when Hermione, Luna, and Ginny hurried over to Iruka. "Iruka-sensei, have you seen Harry and Neville? They were supposed to meet us by the Room half an hour ago but they never showed.

Iruka shook his head. "I'm afraid I haven't seen either of them all afternoon." It could be nothing, it _should_ be nothing, but something in his intuition as a shinobi was screaming at him that his students were in danger. "Let's ask the Headmaster, come on." The quartet quickly made their way over to where Dumbledore was speaking with Madame Maxime and Ludo Bagman.

"Headmaster," the chuunin said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've got a couple of students unaccounted-for and was hoping you could help me find them."

Albus's eyes flicked to the three girls, before widening minutely as his body language flipped to 'tense and worried but covering it up'. "Please excuse me, Olympe, Ludo, but my other responsibilities beckon." He gave both a polite (if subtly strained) smile before chivvying Iruka and the girls to a quiet spot behind the stands. Extracting a sheet of parchment from a pocket, he tapped it with his wand while saying "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus." Within seconds, the lines running across the page from his wandtip had drawn a map of the castle beneath the title " _STAFF MAP, HEADMASTER_ " with a handful of dots in the corridors and a muddled swarm surrounding the Quidditch Pitch. " **Invenio** Harry Potter," he intoned with his wand still touching the page.

Nothing happened.

**-――――===ͽ ͼ===――――-**

Albus scowled. This was not good, potentially _very_ not good. Steeling himself, he gave the emergency secondary password for his copy of the Staff Map. "Für das Größere Wohl." He had chosen this password very carefully, as a check on himself and his tendency to try and control everything. It was a harsh reminder of where that tendency could lead, of the harm it could cause, and of the harm it _had_ caused. While most things that recalled Ariana to him were bittersweet, this reminder of what led to her death was purely bitter, an added disincentive to abuse the knowledge the Staff Map's emergency mode offered.

While a handful of new dots appeared in the private areas of the castle, a quick scan showed that none read "Harry Potter". Very not good indeed.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Iruka saw, or rather didn't see, the same thing as the Headmaster. "Try searching for Neville," he suggested.

Dumbledore nodded. " **Invenio** Neville Longbottom." A dot in a broom closet near Gryffindor Tower turned red. "Duty Done," he stated firmly, blanking the map and turning to hustle towards the castle. Iruka and the girls followed, the latter having to jog at times to keep up with their Headmaster's long strides.

Upon reaching the closet, they opened it to find Neville crumpled unconscious. Albus cast a quick diagnostic over the teen, before sighing in relief. "Merely stunned, thank Merlin. **Rennervate**."

Neville jolted awake, looking around in confusion for a moment before working out where he was and who was present. "Headmaster? What happened?" He looked at the group worriedly. "Where's Harry?"

"That's what we were hoping you could tell us, Mister Longbottom," Albus said kindly. "What is the last thing you recall before we awoke you here?"

"Harry and I were heading over to meet with the girls to go watch the Third Task, when suddenly there was a rustle of cloth and a Stunning Hex caught Harry in the back before he could dodge. I was just turning around when whoever did it must have Stunned me too."

Albus's face turned grave. "I see. Please make your way to the Hospital Wing; Madam Pomfrey should join you there shortly. I'm afraid I have need of your friends and teacher. In case you aren't certain where you are at present, the grand stair case is that way." He pointed back the way they'd come, and Neville nodded and headed off, glancing worriedly back at the others as he went. "Iruka, I believe a rescue mission is in order. Please garb yourself appropriately."

While Iruka was shucking his robes and unsealing his vest and other gear, the Headmaster turned to the girls. "Miss Lovegood, go to Madam Pomfrey and tell her to get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible, and to prepare for a possibly critical casualty. Miss Weasley, find your brother Percival and tell him that Madam Pomfrey and I are dealing with an emergency and ask that he hold the Third Task at least until they have a qualified medi-witch or -wizard to see to injured Champions. Miss Granger, inform Professor McGonagall of the same and ask that she gather Professor Moody and contact Madam Bones regarding the kidnapping of a minor."

The girls rushed off, and Albus called out "Fawkes!" The phoenix in question appeared in a burst of flame, hovering before the two wizards. "Can you find Harry?" After a moment's pause, Fawkes gave a sad trill and shook his head. Albus scowled. "That is not good. At best, whoever has taken Harry has him under some sort of ward, presumably Dark in origin, capable of blocking phoenixes. At worst... Regardless, we _must_ find him, and quickly. There is no telling how long he's been gone already, and whoever is responsible is unlikely to have his best interests in mind."

Iruka took his turn to call in help. "Dobby!" The house-elf appeared with a crack, all in worn and faded clothing. From his tall, dark leather boots to his brown leather overcoat, earth tones dominated save for an old and shabby red- patterned scarf around his neck. The only other oddity of his outfit was an empty leather bandolier slung underneath his overcoat but over his glossy chocolate-colored waistcoat. "Harry has been kidnapped. Can you find him?"

Dobby's eyes widened to a degree that would have been comical in happier circumstances. "Dobby can always find Great Harry Potter Sir. He is not being at Hoggywarts, but Dobby be finding him."

"Just be careful," Iruka warned, "make sure nobody knows you were there."

This drew a confident smile. "Being not seen nor heard is something house-elves is _good_ at." With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared with another crack. About fifteen seconds later, a very worried Dobby returned. "Dobby is finding Great Harry Potter Sir in a graveyard, Professor Ninja Sir. There is being many bad wizards there including Bad Old Master and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Good work, Dobby," the Headmaster said. "Would you be able to bring us to somewhere nearby but just out of sight?" At the elf's resolute nod, he turned to Iruka while pulling his wand. "Your task will be to retrieve Harry." He waved his wand and Iruka saw a blue glow coming from his vest. "That Portkey should carry you and anyone else in contact with your vest directly to the Hospital Wing when you speak your people's word for 'leaf'. I shall do my best to occupy the attention of Voldemort and his followers until you've made your escape."

"What are my rules of engagement?" the chuunin asked.

"Harry's wellbeing is obviously our priority. Do as you feel is necessary to that end. Are we ready?"

"I am if you are."

"Very well, then let us go. Dobby?"

A moment later, the corridor was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-dunnnnn! And things were going so well for our heroes...
> 
> "Invenio" is Latin, with Google Translate giving meanings of "find, meet with, find out, discover, invent, locate". Google Translate and no actual knowledge of Latin feel pretty appropriate to coming up with Potterverse incantations, all things considered.


	14. In Action

Iruka wasn't really in the right frame of mind to characterize the experience of being Apparated by a house-elf, but if he were, he'd have described it as akin to being stretched out like taffy to just shy of one's breaking point before snapping back. As it was, he just noted a brief moment of disorientation before his feet hit grass.

They had arrived between a large old yew tree and a small church. In the distance out beyond the tree was a hill capped by a large manor house that would, in the daytime or if examined, have been readily recognizable as the former home of the late Riddle family. At the moment, however, all of the attention of the two wizards bracketing a panting, exhausted house-elf was focused on the overgrown graveyard between the tree and the hill. More specifically, they were focusing on the crowd of black-robed figures silhouetted by a low fire around thirty-five meters away.

With his eyes still adjusting from the abrupt change in light levels, Iruka couldn't get an exact count, but he figured it was about thirty to forty people, arranged in a rough circle, with a tall figure moving around within. "Head back to Hogwarts, Dobby," he addressed the elf, "you've done your part, now it's our turn." With a tired nod of assent, Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished.

"Disillusion yourself and head left," Albus commanded, "and I shall make a more open approach to the right. With a bit of luck, they'll all be too busy focusing on me to get in your way."

Iruka tapped himself with his wand, rippling into near-invisibility. "Just be careful, Albus. None of us are expendable." A moment later, only Alastor Moody would have been able to pinpoint his location as he moved off.

"Silent as the grave, indeed..." he heard Albus mutter before setting out on his own course towards the sinister gathering.

They'd only traveled a handful of steps when a bolt of angry red light shot out between the Death Eaters on the left side of the circle. Moments later, there was a brief blue flash within the circle that abruptly turned into a steady golden glow. Two figures, one clearly recognizable as Harry, floated up over the Death Eaters' heads, their extended wands connected by a beam of golden light, before drifting away and to Iruka's right. The black-clad wizards followed, shouting questions to their master. Harry and (presumably) Voldemort landed about five meters from their previous position, and were soon encircled once more. Iruka, meanwhile, had begun curving his path around to the right and could see that Albus was doing similarly.

Moments after the circle had reformed, once more hiding the two combatants from view, hundreds more threads of golden light erupted from within to form a dome-shaped weblike cage of light.

"Do nothing!" came a borderline-frantic shriek in a voice that removed any question about the identity of Harry's opponent.

" **WISE ADVICE, TOM,** " boomed Albus's magically-amplified voice, prompting panic from the dark wizards as they hesitantly arrayed themselves against the interloper. Of course, given that these Death Eaters were the ones smart enough to dodge Azkaban, they were also smart enough to not want to charge the Defeater of Grindelwald. If they fled, on the other hand, they would almost certainly feel their master's wrath. Caught between a rock and a hard place, they mostly stayed huddled close to the golden barrier, waiting for someone _else_ to be foolish enough to start trading spells with Dumbledore. This was good for them, but not nearly so good for Iruka and his rescue mission.

Albus clearly recognized the problem. "SURRENDER NOW, AND THE WIZENGAMOT MAY BE MORE INCLINED TOWARDS LENIENCY. I WILL _NOT_ ASK AGAIN." All around the former Transfiguration teacher the earth began to bulge up, shaping itself into lions, wolves, and even a rhinoceros. Once the ersatz animals had fully formed, he spoke once more. "SO BE IT." At a twitch of his wand, the rhino charged straight for the center of the crowd of Death Eaters, the lions and wolves following shortly behind. Scattering out of the rhino's path, the Death Eaters responded with a variety of curses.

Most of the first volley was focused on the transfigured animals, with at least three separate Killing Curses striking the rhino. Watching the fight, Iruka saw the Death Eaters operating not as a coordinated unit but as a mob of individuals, each man looking out solely for himself. He also saw a glimpse of just how much Albus was still holding back in their spars. The Headmaster was successfully defending himself against an assault by several dozen opponents: A flock of conjured birds swarmed between the two sides, impairing visibility and veering unpredictably into the paths of curses. Behind that, a low earthen rampart blocked virtually everything aimed below waist height, while tombstones (or pieces thereof) levitated into the path of curses aimed higher, leaving only a small fraction of the incoming fire for Albus to handle personally. He might have been out for an evening stroll through the countryside for all the concern he seemed to be showing the rainbow of death being cast at him.

To a veteran warrior, one that had spent years learning to read tells on a battlefield, it was obvious that Albus was exerting a lot more effort than he was letting on. The most obvious sign was the fact that he wasn't counterattacking, not even with gentle spells like Stunners or Body-Binds. Holding off the Death Eaters was taking all of his concentration, and was really only possible because of their confusion and disarray combined with their clustered positioning leaving him only a narrow arc that needed defending. If his opponents began to spread out, he'd soon be in serious trouble. Iruka upped his pace.

Inside the dome, the beam of light between Harry's wand and Voldemort's had developed bulges, looking almost like beads on a rope, that Harry seemed to be somehow forcing towards the Dark Lord's wand. Just as they were about to make contact, Iruka barely evaded the strike of a snake as thick as his thigh. He quickly drew a kunai, hoping to put the beast down quickly and quietly to avoid notice. Unfortunately, when he cut at the serpent while dodging its next attack, the edge of his blade just glanced off its scales as if they were made of hardened steel. At the same moment, a brief shriek of agony issued from within the dome, followed by a shout of "There's another one!" from one of the Death Eaters.

Realizing the time for stealth had passed, Iruka leapt back, throwing a quartet of kunai trailing sealing tags back towards the snake. The moment they struck the ground around it, he channeled chakra to activate them, forming a luminous blue barrier in a rough pyramid shape. He figured that if the snake was impossible for him to cut, it was probably durable enough that he was better off just taking it out of the fight for now. This did seem to work, as the serpent rebounded off the barrier when it tried to follow him, hissing angrily. At almost the exact same moment, half a dozen curses impacted around where the chuunin had been standing.

The good news was that Iruka had managed to take about a third of the pressure off of Albus, who had begun sending spells and more transfigured beasts towards his opponents. The bad news was that at least ten dark wizards were now moving between Iruka and his objective with murder in mind.

Iruka took a bit more distance, throwing out two waves of shuriken in wide spreads to dissuade immediate pursuit. Several cries of pain and surprise told him he'd scored at least a few hits. The curses cast in response said that he hadn't incapacitated anybody yet, but at least he'd bought himself enough space to dodge and maneuver. Even so, a stinging pain from his left thigh told him that one of the near misses had been more 'near' than 'miss'. He threw one kunai with each hand, felling two Death Eaters, but his follow-up throws were blocked by shield spells. Taking temporary cover behind a mausoleum, he pondered his options and objectives for a few moments before settling on a plan. He leapt out and back, drawing his opponents further in among the graves and farther from the golden dome.

"Avery, Crabbe, Goyle!" came a shout from one of the masked figures, "Keep those shield spells up in front! The rest of you, with me!"

Taking cover once more from the renewed hail of curses, Iruka formed his hands into the Ram seal and created a stack of Academy-level illusion clones, keeping all but one of them overlapping and in perfect sync with his real body. He dashed out to another large monument, having his one out-of-sync clone run in the opposite direction. The shouts of bewilderment from his attackers brought a smile to his face, but more importantly the brief lull in their attacks gave him ample time to reach his new cover unmolested. After a moment's pause, he moved for yet a different piece of cover, again sending one clone in another direction. This time, the Death Eaters weren't caught off-guard and shot curses at both of them, but dodging was a lot easier than before given that they'd divided their attacks roughly evenly between their two visible targets.

Thus the chuunin zig-zagged his way across the graveyard closer to both Harry and the group of dark wizards trying to keep teacher from student. Occasionally, while pausing behind whatever grave was serving as his most recent cover, Iruka would command the survivors among those bunshin he'd already sent out to make their own runs, further confusing the issue. Once he got as close as he dared to the Death Eaters' line, he sent his remaining clones out in two stacks while remaining behind and Disillusioning himself again. He kept directing these clones outwards, as if they were trying to outflank the dark wizards, watching and waiting from his hiding place.

Finally, the moment came when he deemed the Death Eaters' attention sufficiently focused to the sides rather than in front. Channeling a surge of chakra to his legs, he leapt over the cluster of wizarding terrorists to land silently behind them and resume his approach towards his actual objective. Just as he reached the edge of the clear patch of ground housing the two combatants, he heard a shout of "NOW!" from within the dome. An instant later, the golden barrier winked out, and Iruka dashed towards a Harry that was already running towards him, while a horde of ghostly figures swarmed around Voldemort shouting imprecations. One lone specter remained outside that group, standing next to Harry's prior position, looking like a smoky image of James Potter.

Iruka grabbed his student, clutching Harry to his vest while shouting "Konoha!". As he felt the characteristic hook-behind-the-navel sensation and saw the graveyard dissolve into a swirl of colors, he heard a shriek of absolute rage, and his last sight of the impromptu battlefield was an approving nod from the shade of Harry's father. Moments later, they were in the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey was at their side in an instant, helping Iruka get Harry into a bed. Now that he had a moment to really look at his student, he could see a nasty knife wound on his left bicep. More worrying was the fact that Harry was shaking and twitching, his muscles occasionally spasming.

Within seconds of Iruka and Harry's arrival, Albus also Portkeyed into the Hospital Wing. While not visibly injured to any great extent, his robes were torn, scorched, and marred with dirt or soot in numerous places, and his usually neatly-groomed beard and hair were singed and in disarray. Just as telling was the fatigue visible in his movements as he approached. "How is he, Poppy?"

The school's medi-witch frowned at the results of her diagnostics. "A couple of bruises, a vicious stab wound on his arm... and how in Merlin's name did a student end up with Cruciatus exposure?!" A shocked gasp briefly drew Iruka's eye to Neville, who had clearly just gotten out of another of the infirmary's beds and had approached, close enough to make his presence apparent but far enough to keep out from underfoot.

"He was abducted," the Headmaster replied gravely, "and though we were obviously present for his rescue, I was hoping-"

At that moment the doors to the Hospital Wing were thrown open, and the female contingent of S.E.N. burst in. Three voices cried out "Harry!" in near-perfect unison as the girls rushed towards his bed, only to be intercepted by Neville.

"Give Madam Pomfrey room to work," he said firmly. It showed how much the boy had grown in confidence that he was able to take such calm command despite being just as obviously distressed as his friends.

"What happened?" demanded Hermione, at the same time Luna pleaded "Is he all right?"

"He's hurt," Iruka temporized, "but it could have been a lot worse. Let's step back and let Madam Pomfrey concentrate."

Even Albus took a bit of distance, though he stayed close enough to step in at a moment's notice, either to help the matron or to debrief her patient.

"Sensei," Luna gasped, "you're hurt!" She pointed to the long, narrow hole scorched through the leg of his trousers and the shallow but ragged cut underneath that was bleeding sluggishly. Of course, now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off and his injury had been brought to his attention, _now_ it started to ache.

"I'll be seeing to you as well, Professor," Madam Pomfrey said firmly, displaying that uncanny sense that seemed to allow medics to detect any injured party, no matter how minor, in their vicinity, "it'll just be a few minutes while I see to Mister Potter here. You too, Albus." She bustled off to her potions supply, she called back "And don't either of you start interrogating him until I've finished!" She returned levitating a tray with two goblets on it, which she set on Harry's bedside table before closing the privacy screens around his bed.

Just as she stepped out, Sirius and Remus ran in from the corridor. "How-" an out-of-breath Sirius gasped, "how's Harry? Is he all right?"

"He will be," the school's medi-witch replied, "though it may take a day or two for his arm to heal fully, or more if he doesn't rest it as he ought." Given her pointed glare at the dog Animagus, there was clearly a story behind that last clause. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have other patients still to attend to." At this she came over to Iruka, herding him over to the bed next to Harry's and casting a quick battery of diagnostic charms. "A couple of minor scrapes, one small non-magical laceration, and a curse wound to the left outer thigh." She set up another set of privacy curtains. "I'll be back with a poultice for that." A wave of her wand Summoned a set of pajamas from a nearby cabinet. "While I'm gone, you might as well start getting changed, though don't bother putting the bottoms on just yet." Instruction given, she bustled off.

When she returned, Iruka was standing awkwardly half-dressed, leaning against the foot of the bed. She soon had his injury cleaned and dressed, with fresh white gauze wrapping his leg to hold the poultice in place. "That should do for tonight, though it'll likely need changing at least a couple of times in the next day or two. You should count yourself lucky, Professor: I saw wounds from the same or similar curses back during the war, and if whoever cast that had had any better aim we might be fitting you for a wooden leg."

"I _knew_ I dodged for a reason," Iruka commented as he pulled on his pajama bottoms, earning a Look from the healer. He decided it was safer to appease her a bit, and climbed somewhat sheepishly into bed, sitting up against the headboard.

The privacy curtains were pulled back, revealing Harry in a similar state in the neighboring bed, with the addition of a sling holding his right arm. He also happened to be surrounded by one Animagus, one werewolf, and four teenagers, all of whom were either actively fussing over him or just standing by looking quietly concerned.

Madam Pomfrey, meanwhile, had bustled over to Albus and was scanning him for injuries. "Nothing significant, just a few scrapes and bruises. Still, it doesn't take a Healer to see you're dead on your feet, so I'll expect you to get plenty of rest."

"Thank you, Poppy," the Headmaster replied, "I shall certainly try. Unfortunately, at present we are in the midst of dealing with a rather serious incident, and it is likely that I and others will be busy for many hours to come. To that end, might I trouble you for a dose of Pepper-Up Potion?"

She scowled. "Rest would be far better for you, Albus, and you'll need it all the more when the potion wears off. I'll give it to you against my better judgment, but only on the condition that you get _at least_ twelve hours' uninterrupted sleep afterwards. You're not exactly a young man anymore."

As she walked off to measure out the requested potion, Cornelius Fudge strode in through the doors flanked by a pair of Aurors, stopping abruptly with a look of shock when he saw Dumbledore's bedraggled state. "Albus!" he cried, "What in Merlin's name happened? I get word that Harry Potter's been kidnapped, and now I find him here injured with you looking like you've just gone up against a dragon!"

"Ah, Cornelius," the Headmaster said tiredly, "in fact we've just returned from an impromptu rescue mission. Young Harry was taken by an unknown party, and while we were able to reach his location relatively quickly after being alerted by his friends, there were a number of wizards present who objected quite violently to our intrusion. Thank you, Poppy," he nodded to the matron and drained the goblet she'd handed him. In moments, his skin had flushed, his posture straightened, and steam shot from his ears as his hair and beard frizzed even further than they already had. Turning back to the Minister, he continued. "I had been hoping to ask Mister Potter for his account. Would you and your Aurors care to join us?"

"Yes, of course," Fudge replied, "the sooner we get it done with, the sooner he can get his much-needed rest. Everyone else involved can give their statements afterward." He gave a faint, reassuring smile to everyone present, even if his expression tightened briefly when he looked at Remus. "Run along now, girls; Harry's safe now, and there's no need to bother young ladies like yourselves with an unpleasant tale."

"It's okay, Minister," Harry said, "they're my friends, and they already know part of the story, so they'll get the rest of it out of me sooner or later anyway. Might as well let them hear it now and save myself the nagging." He gave a self-deprecating smile at the mock glares from the three girls, prompting a round of chuckles from the room.

"I see you've learned an important lesson early about dealing with witches," the Minister replied with a politician's smile. "Fair enough, shall we-"

"Neville!" Augusta Longbottom shouted as she strode into the Hospital Wing, Filius half-jogging to keep up. "Professor Flitwick informed me you'd been attacked - what happened?"

"We were just about to begin inquiring about that, Madam Longbottom," Fudge said in a polite, if somewhat strained, tone. "As your grandson was involved in events as well, you may join us so long as Mister Potter does not object."

"I'm fine with it," Harry shrugged. "Neville was only caught up in this because he was with me."

At this point there were already fifteen people in the room, not enough for it to be considered crowded quite yet, but certainly more than usually occupied this space outside of major incidents like catastrophic mishaps in Potions class. The addition of four _more_ people definitely didn't help, however, nor did the immediate tension that arose in the already emotionally-charged atmosphere. Minister Fudge looked surprised to see Director Bones, who was looking at Headmaster Dumbledore with a 'what the bloody hell is happening?' expression. The two Aurors following her were trading friendly nods with the two already present. Both Sirius Black and Madam Longbottom were glaring venomously at a disheveled Bartemius Crouch, who was gazing vacantly off into space. On a scale from 'holding open a door for someone that's not going through it' to 'I really wish we'd found out we were siblings _before_...', the awkward pause that descended upon the room rated a solid 'Kakashi reading Icha Icha during official functions, again'.

"Madam Pomfrey," the DMLE director announced calmly, "I'm afraid we've got another patient for you - found him stumbling around on our way up to the castle. He's only intermittently lucid, and some of the things he's said while he was... I'd ask you to keep him restrained as a potential danger to himself or others."

Pomfrey sighed. "Very well, bring him over here please. And we haven't even had that bloody Third Task yet, which I'm sure will probably fill at least one of my beds..." Her grumbling trailed off as she led the newest arrivals towards the back of the room, oblivious to the somewhat pinched expression worn by the Minister of Magic at her comments.

"Probably best to wait for Amelia before we get started," Fudge commented to Dumbledore.

"She would likely be quite cross with us if we did not," the elder wizard replied.

Bones was back in less than a minute, telling Madam Pomfrey to contact her when Crouch achieved a more consistently-lucid state. "Now," she addressed the group at large, "can someone please explain what in Merlin's name happened?"

"As I understand the matter," the Minister took the lead, "Mister Potter was abducted from school earlier this afternoon or evening, with Mister Longbottom being left Stunned as part of the same incident. Professors Dumbledore and Umino then undertook a rescue mission to retrieve their wayward student. We were just about to interview young Harry about his experience when you arrived, and felt you would likely prefer to be involved yourself."

"Damn right I would, Minister," she acknowledged, "though I would prefer if all those involved were interviewed separately, at least at first, to give the clearest overall picture."

"Whatever you feel is best, Amelia." Fudge clearly tried and nearly succeeded at not coming across as a tad patronizing.

Madam Bones nodded stiffly. "Dawlish, you'll be interviewing the Headmaster; Shacklebolt, Professor Umino; Proudfoot, Mister Longbottom, and Tonks with me speaking with Mister Potter."

Each of the Aurors acknowledged her command, though the one addressed as Dawlish looked a bit sheepish. "I'm afraid I don't have the proper recording materials on me, ma'am."

Tonks, the pink-haired young woman, rummaged around in the pockets of her robes, before pulling out two sets, handing one to Dawlish.

Proudfoot raised an eyebrow. "Do you always carry two sets?"

"And a few other things besides," the young Auror acknowledged. "I trained under Moody, and you know he tends to prepare for _anything_."

"You don't know the half of it, Tonks," Bones commented wryly. "One time, before I made Director, we were out in the field and I swear to Merlin he pulled out a _live fish_..." Given the round of chuckles even in the serious mood of the room, all present had experience with the paranoid ex-Auror. "Anyway, let's get this started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really intending that there'd be a bit of back-and-forth between Harry and Voldemort before their wands locked, but given how I'm figuring their abilities and fighting styles, I just couldn't find a way to make it work. Voldemort would be much more likely to shield than dodge.
> 
> I actually just mentally pictured how and where Dumbledore and Iruka landed, and had them split in arbitrary directions. When it came time for Harry and Voldemort to float out of the circle, I literally rolled a d8 for a random direction.
> 
> I'd honestly meant to have Iruka present for Harry's interview, but Bones was there, and she was all professional and stuff...
> 
> Also, yes, the live fish is a Sentinels reference. Awesome, awesome game.


	15. Panic

Auror Shacklebolt, a tall dark-skinned man that exuded a sense of calm, quickly set up parchment and Dicta-Quill to record their interview, and cast a privacy spell of some sort around himself and Iruka. After the opening formalities, he asked the chuunin to describe the evening's events in his own words.

Under ordinary circumstances, Iruka would have been deliberately vague or even outright lied about parts of the tale that related to his shinobi background. Unfortunately, in this case some of the very people he would least want finding out about his abilities had witnessed them first-hand. Thus it was that he recounted the entire series of events, starting from the girls' concern over Harry and Neville's absence and ending with the return to the Hospital Wing. At several points he had to explain in a bit more detail about the tools and jutsu he'd used, though the Auror was quite understanding about Iruka's desire to keep the exact details of his jutsu to himself.

Eventually they finished and Shacklebolt dispelled his privacy charm. Neville had clearly finished first, not really surprising given that his involvement was limited to 'got stunned, woke up in a broom closet, came here'. Albus's interview would likely take the longest if he was being his usual long-winded self, though if he decided to keep some parts secret that could shorten things appreciably.

Less than thirty seconds after Iruka's interview finished, the privacy bubble around Harry's bed dropped, abruptly raising the level of noise in the Hospital Wing quite a bit thanks to the budding shouting match between Minister Fudge and Harry, Sirius, and Madam Bones. Remus and Auror Tonks watched quietly from the sidelines, both subtly favoring Harry's side of the argument judging by their body language, but with presumably neither wanting to chance drawing the ire of high-ranking Ministry officials.

"-preposterous!" Fudge shouted, "You-Know-Who is dead, and has been for over thirteen years! There is simply no possible way he could be back! I will also thank you, Mister Potter, to stop making such ridiculous accusations against respectable members of our society!"

Iruka's mind raced. From what he was seeing and hearing, the situation was potentially very, _very_ bad. It was obvious that the Minister couldn't and wouldn't accept the horrible truth about the night's events. His panicked tone and desperate denials made it clear that nothing short of Lord Voldemort striding into the Hospital Wing would convince him, at least in his current mental state. With fear drowning out what little rational thought he had as a politician, continuing to push would only escalate that fear and cause him to dig in his heels ever more stubbornly. That, in turn, would define the Ministry's official stance and policy in a way which could be disastrous. Trying to prepare for the sudden resumption of the war with Voldemort would be hard enough even with government support; without that support, or worse, with _opposition_ , it would be much harder.

Someone, and Iruka suspected the task would fall to him, had to break Fudge out of his spiral of panic and denial, shut up those stridently insisting on a reality he simply wasn't prepared to accept, and in a perfect world get him back on-side to get the Ministry ready for what was to come. Seriously, where was Naruto when you needed him? After a few moments desperate thought, the chuunin settled on the best approach he could come up with on short notice and dove in, wishing he felt confident in his ability to get away with a mood-altering genjutsu.

"Harry! Sirius! Madam Bones! Minister!" When his shouting failed to grab their attention (though it did draw some of the returning Madam Pomfrey's angry gaze to him), he drew his wand and cast a firecracker spell similar to the one Albus had used Iruka's first Halloween in the castle. _That_ startled the group enough to break off their argument and turn to him.

"Madam Bones, Harry," he turned to the group first in hopes of coming across as more on Fudge's side, "you have to understand how crazy your assertions sound." Making sure his head was angled far enough to hide it, he gave them a quick wink. "There are much more plausible explanations for what we experienced in that graveyard. Minister," he addressed the still somewhat wild-eyed wizard in a calm, soothing tone, "I'm sure you've already realized that the precise details of how things _appeared_ this evening are less important than the essential truth." Given the man's ego, he figured it wouldn't exactly hurt to mix a bit of flattery in with his reassurance.

"And what is this 'essential truth', then?" The imminent panic had receded somewhat from the Minister's narrowing eyes, but they were far from out of the woods yet.

"Someone attacked two students, both of them children of respected war heroes, and kidnapped the Boy-Who-Lived himself." Iruka knew how much Harry hated that title, but Fudge needed to be reminded of the star power that could be leveraged here. "I don't know the details of what they did to him, but given his condition when we got back to Hogwarts I'm guessing that he was tortured?" The Minister nodded sourly as Harry shuddered and Sirius glared at the chuunin. "Further, from what I saw, I would presume that a group of wizards enacted some sort of Dark ritual that _appeared_ to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." He put special emphasis on the word 'appeared'. More nods. "I can only assume that the _actual_ result of this ritual was the creation of some sort of construct of Dark magic in the _likeness_ of the Dark Lord in question." _There is no Dark Lord problem, the worst-case scenario isn't happening, don't worry._ "The problem, then, is that some criminal has attacked and abducted a national icon, and is now trying to create the impression that the late and very much unlamented He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned."

"Yes... yes! It's all a ploy by some ne'er-do-well to make it _look_ like You-Know-Who is back!" Fudge seized onto the idea like a drowning man grasping a bit of flotsam. So far, so good. "They're trying to incite some sort of panic, like as not, the same as at the World Cup. Well I won't have it!" Okay, not an ideal response, but he could work with it.

"So don't give them the satisfaction," the chuunin soothed, "no sense alarming the public unnecessarily." He prayed that Madam Bones and the others grasped where he was going with this; it was questionable, given Harry and Sirius's disgusted expressions, but thankfully Fudge's attention was currently fixed on Iruka. "Keep things quiet, at least for now, while trusted people _discreetly_ investigate the matter. We don't know exactly what this criminal's true goals are yet, but we can guess that they're probably not good for the Ministry or for the people of Magical Britain." Sure, he was lying through his teeth on some points, but right now those lies were the closest thing to the truth that the Minister was willing to accept. He wondered how often the various Kage had had to do something similar with their countries' Daimyo. "In the meantime, we secretly begin to prepare for a potential conflict, quietly bolstering the Aurors and Hit Wizards, and of course the Healers and St. Mungo's. Whether those preparations turn out to be necessary or not, the secrecy then works in the Ministry's favor: If there is a fight, the Ministry is ready and the people can see that their leaders were right on the Snitch, while this malcontent gets a nasty surprise. If there's no fight, then nobody outside the trusted few knows anything happened at all, and business continues as usual."

"I like it," the Minister grinned, "Either way we come out ahead, but what do you mean their true goals?" The old politician's tone was a mix of confusion and incredulity, but the question was a near-perfect setup.

"Well, Minister, consider the impression they have tried to create. While yes, it would likely incite panic were it to become widely known, this has all been a tremendous amount of effort to go to simply for the sake of causing a bit of panic. As my village's former leader likes to put it, we must 'look underneath the underneath'. I'm sure you've realized that this whole affair is probably part of some sort of plot or plan, one that they _think_ they've hidden from us, but the very means they're using can give us clues as to what they'll do next and how we might thwart their efforts." Seriously, even Academy-aged Naruto would have noticed how thick Iruka was laying it on at this point. Were ninja just that much better at deceit and subterfuge, or was Fudge just that dense?

"Hmm, indeed," the Minister nodded, attempting a sage expression, "I see where you're going with this, but there are so many possibilities; we need to narrow it down to the most likely and important." As they said in English - hook, line, sinker.

"Well," Iruka explained, "they're trying to create the impression that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. That means that their goals are likely similar to his - overthrow of the Ministry and subjugation of non-Purebloods, non-humans, and people of mixed ancestry. I'd also be willing to bet that they'll borrow at least some of his methods and tactics, which you'd probably have a better handle on than someone who wasn't in Britain during that dark time." Now if said someone had actively studied the Death Eaters' tactics, they'd know a lot more, but no need to mention that little tidbit. "They'll probably target the same kinds of people, too. Depending on how closely they follow his playbook, they might even put the same poor upstanding citizens under the Imperius Curse again. Now, obviously it would be too overt a move to take those people into protective custody, and possibly a bit premature, but having trusted, _discreet_ people keep track of them, watch their comings and goings, note if they're getting any strange visitors or acting unusually? I'm sure they'd be _most_ grateful upon regaining themselves."

"Whoever's behind this is probably looking to make use of the followers and allies of the dark wizard they're trying to play," the chuunin continued, "so it might be a good idea to try and deny them those resources. Those Death Eaters still locked in Azkaban might make a tempting target, if they can be persuaded that their master is back-"

"He said, er, the construct in the graveyard said something about allying with the Dementors," Harry interrupted hesitantly, "so they might be planning a breakout or something..."

"There you go," Iruka picked up smoothly as Harry trailed off, "and something you could almost certainly cause trouble for. Even if no breakout is attempted, I hardly think people would complain about improving security at Azkaban, or reducing the Ministry's reliance on dangerous Dark creatures as guards."

Fudge perked up. "That's true. Horrid things, Dementors - useful in their way, but horrid nonetheless." He seemed to wilt somewhat. "The trouble is money. Bolstering security wouldn't exactly come cheap, and trying to find that in the budget somehow would be like pulling teeth from a dragon."

"I might be able to help," Sirius said, "somewhat, at least. Between my inheritance and the settlement I got from Crouch over there, I've got a fair amount of gold set by. I'm not Malfoy rich, mind, but I could maybe help cover things until either whoever this is comes out in the open or it gets stopped. I'd prefer to set it up as a sort of loan..."

"Or a war bond!" Hermione piped up suddenly, causing the entire group's gaze to swivel to her and reminding the adults that a group of children were still listening in. She continued sheepishly under so many intent eyes. "It's like a loan to a government to help pay for a war, paid back with a bit of interest after the war's over."

"Ah, yes," Albus cut in, having apparently finished giving his account, "I recall hearing about the Muggles doing something like that as part of their side of the war with Grindlewald. Of course, as we are not presently at war, 'war bond' would be a rather excessive term. Perhaps 'emergency bond' would suit better? Should the present trouble not resolve itself in a conveniently timely fashion, such Emergency Bonds could even be sold to the general public as a way for people to contribute to the Ministry's efforts in their defense without needing to take up their wands in anger. Thank you, Miss Granger, for bringing up that useful bit of information."

"Yes, thank you," Madam Bones said somewhat awkwardly, "though at this point it might be best if we took this discussion somewhere a touch more private. As helpful as Miss Granger and Mister Potter have been, these aren't really matters for schoolchildren to worry about."

Fudge waved a hand half-placatingly-half-dismissively. "I think we've flown this broom as far as we can for the moment, anyway. Why don't I speak with Mr. Black about some preliminary details for this Emergency Bond, whilst you make a start on investigating this troublemaker?"

"An excellent idea, Minister," Dumbledore smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling. "If you don't mind, I'd like to begin contacting a few old friends whose discretion I trust and asking them to keep their eyes open. I will, of course, share any pertinent reports with Madam Bones."

"Yes, yes," the Minister replied dismissively, clearly missing the DMLE Director's narrowed eyes at the Headmaster's statements, "just keep the Ministry informed. Now if you'll excuse me..."

As Fudge bustled off, Albus turned to the exhausted teen at the center of the excitement. "I am loathe to ask this of you, Harry," he said gently, "but it could well help our efforts if we could witness your memory of tonight's events. I have a device which would permit this, though I would need to take a copy of the memory to be viewed. To do this, you would have to use the Occlumency skills you've been practicing to bring that memory to the front of your mind, at which point I would touch my wand to your temple in order to pull away a copy. Is that all right?" Harry nodded, somewhat nervously, prompting a gentle smile from the Headmaster. "Thank you. Go ahead and bring forth the memory, and let me know when you've got it ready."

It took several tries over the next few minutes, but eventually Dumbledore was able to extract a copy of Harry's memory. The students present, Harry included, looked in awe at the silvery wisps extracted from his temple. "Again, Harry, thank you for this. Facing what you have tonight, both in the moment and in recollection afterwards, has clearly demonstrated the courage for which Gryffindor House is known. Now, I believe if I keep you from your Dreamless Sleep potion any longer that Madam Pomfrey may leave me in need of her services, so I shall leave you to your well-earned sleep. Remus, when he finishes his discussion with the Minister please inform Sirius that I'd like to speak with him at his earliest convenience." Remus nodded. "Poppy, I'm afraid I need to borrow Professor Umino for a short while, though I promise to return him to your care in good order. Might I trouble you for the use of your office Floo to ease his journey to my office?"

"If you must," Madam Pomfrey sighed before turning to Iruka, "but _you_ Professor will keep off that leg as much as possible and not strain yourself, and if the wound reopens you are to return here _immediately_ , understood?"

Quailing a bit at her use of the patented Medic's Glare, Iruka gulped and nodded. Albus thanked her before conjuring a crutch for the chuunin to use and leading both him and Madam Bones into the medi-witch's office. A short Floo trip later (with an exit made somewhat more difficult by having to favor his injured leg), the three were in the Headmaster's office.

"Due to my late arrival to the conversation," Dumbledore commented while setting up his Pensieve, "I feel I must ask: Whence came the concept that what we face is anything less than the terror of a reborn Lord Voldemort? I fear for the consequences should the forces opposing him prepare to any degree less than their utmost."

"A bit of quick-thinking on Professor Umino's part," Madam Bones replied, "saving us all from Cornelius's inability to accept that what he _wants_ to be true has no bearing on reality. He was working himself into a fine panic, refusing to believe that You-Know-Who could possibly be back, and I'll be honest in that Black, Potter, and I weren't helping things by shouting at him. Then this one steps in," she gestured at Iruka, "and starts talking him down and buttering him up, telling him a story he can swallow that'll at least get him doing _something_ useful rather than fighting us every step of the way."

"Deception is a core part of the shinobi way," Iruka shrugged self-effacingly, "and I just figured that if he wouldn't believe the truth, it'd be better to try and shape the lie he did end up believing, an illusion crafted not to hide reality but to show it. I'd rather he do the right things for the wrong reasons than the wrong things for the wrong reasons."

Albus sighed. "I suppose that will have to do, for now at least. With time, I would hope we might be able to convince Cornelius of the true enormity of the problems we face, but we can be assured that not all of those who have his ear will be aligned with that goal. Regardless, before we can focus on the future perhaps we should look into the past?"

The trio landed in total darkness that transformed rather abruptly into the low light of late evening. They found themselves in the graveyard that Albus and Iruka had so recently left, though nothing at this point hinted at the fierce battle that would soon take place. Harry was tied to a marble gravestone bearing the name "TOM RIDDLE", gasping and arching in the fashion of one suddenly and harshly forced into wakefulness. Nearby, putting his wand away and standing beside an enormous cauldron was a sandy-haired man wearing high-quality robes that hung loosely on his gaunt frame and looked well-kept but somewhat worn. The man's features seemed vaguely familiar, though that might have been just the intensity of expression common to fanatics and madmen.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior!" Madam Bones exclaimed. "No wonder Barty was babbling about his son as we were bringing him up to the castle!"

"I thought he died in Azkaban," Iruka said, "after being caught with the Lestranges at the Longbottoms' safehouse?"

"As did we all," Albus replied gravely, watching as the younger Crouch set a low fire going beneath the cauldron. "Thus far, every mystery solved is being replaced by another."

" _You should be honored, Potter_ ," Crouch said as he worked. " _Soon you'll have the privilege of helping me return my master to his full glory!_ "

" _Enough chatter!_ " Voldemort's voice issued from a cloth-wrapped bundle nearby, sounding even more shrill than usual, as the same enormous snake that had attacked Iruka slithered past Harry's feet. " _Begin the ritual!_ "

" _As you command, Master._ " The Death Eater carefully picked up the bundle, unwrapping it to reveal the tiny form within. Unlike his stint as a parasite on Quirrell's head or the wraith-like form he'd taken to escape, Voldemort had a real physical body. He looked like a horrid caricature of a child, with scaly black-and-red skin, a flattened nose and luminous red eyes, and frail, spindly limbs. Crouch assisted the creature into the heated potion that filled the cauldron, and it sank to the bottom with a slight sizzle.

The blonde wizard brought his wand out again, waving it at the grave beneath Harry's feet. The sod split open slightly, and a thin stream of dust flowed out of the ground and into the cauldron, producing a fountain of sparks and turning the shining clear potion an unnaturally-vivid blue. " _Bone of the father,_ " Crouch intoned, " _unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ "

He put his wand away, drawing in its place a dagger with a long, thin blade that Iruka's practiced eye could tell was razor sharp. " _Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!_ " With a manic grin, he passed the knife to his left hand and extended the right out over the cauldron. The dagger must have been magically-enhanced in some way - no mundane blade that light could have severed a limb so easily. Into the potion went the wand hand of Bartemius Crouch Junior, turning it a bright, blazing red.

Crouch then staggered over to Harry. " _Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe._ " He smirked viciously as he pressed the tip of the blade into the crook of Harry's right arm with deliberate slowness, twisting it as he went.

Iruka turned briefly, unwilling to watch his student tortured, and noticed that Albus's expression was profoundly odd: There was the disgust, outrage, and sympathy he'd have expected of the Headmaster, but also a very out-of-place glimmer of hope. Turning back, he saw the Death Eater gathering Harry's blood in a glass phial, which he then proceeded to pour into the cauldron.

With the addition of what was presumably the final ingredient, the potion turned a blinding, actinic white, totally washing out everyone's night vision, before vanishing into a billowing cloud of white mist. As the cloud began to disperse, a skeletally-thin figure stood from within the cauldron. " _Robe me._ "

Crouch shuffled over, tenderly cradling his maimed arm while throwing a long black robe over his master's shoulders using his remaining hand.

Riddle stepped out of the cauldron, and both Harry's memory and the three people viewing it got their first look at the reborn Lord Voldemort. Compared to the man that had applied to teach Defense, his eyes were still the same malevolent, growing red, while his deathly-pale skin now had a scaly look to it. His nose was practically non-existent, just a flat stretch of skin with two slits for nostrils.

The trio watched as the reborn Dark Lord called for his followers, and Iruka noted Harry's slight flinch as Voldemort touched his Mark on Crouch's arm. They watched Riddle reminiscing about his origins. They watched as the silver-masked figures trickled in, as Voldemort called quite a few by name (names Iruka was certain he wasn't the only one memorizing), as he created a silvery prosthetic hand for Crouch (who gazed at it rapturously while thanking his master), as he proved his ability to touch Harry in safety (which was obviously quite painful for the teen). They watched as he tortured Harry with the Cruciatus Curse while the Death Eaters laughed.

"I find myself wishing I'd had the opportunity to focus more on offense tonight," Iruka commented darkly. Albus shot him a brief disapproving look, but the chuunin just couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

"Harry's still shaking from that curse," Madam Bones spat, "not to mention his wand arm's injured, and You-Know-Who is calling this a duel?"

"We should be thankful for Tom's hubris," Albus stated as Harry's wand was returned to him, "as it is quite probably the reason we were able to rescue Harry alive and largely intact."

All talk stopped as the 'duel' began. When Voldemort demanded he " _Bow to death,_ " Harry gave a mocking, exaggerated bow. In response, Riddle's wand snapped out, shooting off what looked like another Cruciatus without even an incantation, the bolt of scarlet light moving much faster than the previous casting. Harry dodged, leaving the curse to pass harmlessly between two Death Eaters behind him, before counterattacking with a shouted " _ **Reducto!**_ " aimed at his opponent's center of mass. Iruka was impressed that Harry managed to keep his spell on-target given his current condition.

Voldemort smirked and tried to swat the spell aside with casual ease, but the moment Harry's spell touched whatever charm he was defending with the two wizards' wands were connected with a narrow thread of brilliant golden light. "We saw some of this," Iruka commented to Madam Bones as they watched the combatants, their vibrating wands held in a death-grip, lifted into the air. The weblike dome formed, memory-Albus announced himself and drew away the Death Eaters, and suddenly strains of phoenix song issued from every thread of the cage, visibly bolstering Harry.

Beads of light formed on the beam connecting the two wands, and began sliding towards Harry, whose wand started shaking more violently as they approached. Harry's face took on a look of intense focus and resolve, and the beads halted before reversing direction towards Voldemort, who looked shocked and visibly frightened at this development.

When the shade of an old man emerged from Riddle's wand, Iruka knew what was coming. Having his parents there-but-not-there must have been heart-wrenching for Harry. As the battle outside the dome continued, the echoes of Voldemort's victims crowded around the Dark Lord, berating him loudly and isolating him both visually and aurally. With a cry of " _NOW!_ " Harry broke the connection and ran towards Iruka's memory-self, and the memory ended in the swirling colors of Portkey travel.

All three sat promptly after emerging from the Pensieve. "One good bit of news," Albus noted, "that memory gave me enough information to determine where this took place. It is in the village of Little Hangleton. With your permission, Amelia, I can provide your Aurors a Portkey to take them to at least the general area. In addition to gathering evidence from the scene, they will need to clean it up or otherwise conceal from the Muggles the signs of the battle fought there tonight."

Madam Bones nodded wearily. "Thanks for that. It'll certainly save some time getting my people on-site. No doubt You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters will have run off by now, but maybe we'll be able to find something useful. I've got to say, Potter impressed the hell out of me there: Most grown witches and wizards would've been quivering wrecks, and this wasn't just teenaged bravado. Dodging that second Cruciatus was no mean feat at that range, and his response was aimed to put his opponent down for good in one cast. What I want to know is what in Merlin's name _was_ that when their wands connected?"

Albus proceeded to explain the Brother Wand Effect in broad terms, and that Harry and Voldemort bore the only two wands in existence whose cores were feathers from Fawkes. "Needless to say," he concluded, "this information should be kept strictly confidential. I shall of course explain it to Harry should he ask, or allow Iruka to do so, but I have no doubt that Lord Voldemort will be keenly eager to discover what it was that thwarted him tonight. There is no guarantee that we will be able to make any use of the knowledge, but it seems prudent to deny our enemies access to any potentially useful facts whenever we can."

"In that case," Iruka suggested, "you should warn Ollivander and any other wandmakers or experts in wandlore, in case Riddle goes after them."

"I doubt that the threat will be enough to move Garrick to do more than update his wards," the Headmaster said tiredly, "but your point is well taken nonetheless."

The trio proceeded to watch both Albus's and Iruka's memories of the battle. Iruka was the only one not able to identify any more of the Death Eaters they'd fought, though he did point out a silver-handed wizard falling under one of the Headmaster's transfigured lions. Given how busy the other two were going to be for the foreseeable future, the chuunin volunteered to owl Augusta Longbottom as a courtesy to let her know about the true final fate of one of her son's and daughter-in-law's attackers.

Memories watched, the three returned to the Hospital Wing as they'd departed. Albus moved off to speak with Sirius and Remus, currently standing vigil by a sleeping Harry's bedside. Madam Bones grabbed two of her Aurors and left for the Ministry to gather a team to investigate in Little Hangleton. Iruka was permitted to climb into bed after Madam Pomfrey had checked his wound to make sure he hadn't aggravated it during his absence.

As odd as some people would have found it that he so readily went to bed while others would likely be working through the night, the chuunin knew from experience that you had to take whatever rest you could get when you could get it. Thus, for tonight at least, he would sleep, but tomorrow the real work would begin, because even if most didn't know it yet, war had once again come to Wizarding Britain.

* * *

**Omake:**

"Good job talking Fudge around, by the way. Is that something any ninja would do?"

"Not really," Iruka replied, "I've known plenty of people that could've handled that better, or at least more effectively. Naruto would probably give some sort of passionate speech and somehow find a well of courage and honor hidden deep in Fudge's soul and turn him into the best Minister in centuries. The Third Hokage would have soothed Fudge, reassured him that everything was going to be fine, and calmly and diplomatically brought him around to accepting the truth. Kakashi would probably have verbally tied him in knots and basically bamboozled him into ardently defending the very facts he'd been rejecting minutes earlier. Tsunade-sama... would probably have smashed something and yelled at him until he was more scared of her than of Voldemort - not sure how well that one would've worked out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Iruka doubted his skills with genjutsu, it's that he doesn't have any idea what level of mental discipline Fudge has, and especially whether or not Fudge or someone else would realize at some point that he'd been mentally affected. The backlash if that happened would be so catastrophic that Iruka's just not willing to risk it without good intel on whether or not he'd get caught.
> 
> Also, can I just say how much I hate having to repeatedly type out long hyphenated aliases?
> 
> I don't know if what I described is at all accurate to how War Bonds actually worked, nor which governments issued them during WW2. Then again, 20th-century Muggle military history doesn't strike me as something Hermione would have read into quite as heavily, and Dumbledore didn't look too closely at the Muggle side of the war, so let's just say that any mistakes are due to them not being knowledgeable on the subject, eh?
> 
> If the way Dumbledore addresses and/or refers to people seems to change at times, that's deliberate on his part. When he wants to assert more control or express greater familiarity, he'll use their first names, while here he addresses Fudge as "Minister" instead of "Cornelius" because he's playing to Fudge's ego.
> 
> I have Voldemort's spells as moving faster than most people's as a partial explanation for why he was so much more dangerous than other wizards. Faster spells are more accurate and leave the target less time to react. As for the second Cruciatus being nonverbal, the scene in the book has Harry neither hearing an incantation nor seeing an incoming spell before he's hit with it, which suggests a nonverbal casting; in this version, his reflexes are sharp enough to spot it and dodge thanks to his added training.
> 
> Given the fact that, according to The Crimes of Grindelwald, Dumbledore actually met Nagini back when she was still human, it's possible that he'd recognize her as a snake as well (depending upon what any subsequent Fantastic Beasts movies show happening). I'm just going to say that, between poor lighting, fatigue, decades since he'd last seen her, and not paying particular attention, Dumbledore has not recognized her as yet. Voldemort also never mentioned her by name in the graveyard. Now, when Snape brings up the snake's name at some point when reporting in, that will likely give the old man a shock. I'm going to refrain from writing anything about such recognition until after her arc is concluded in the Fantastic Beasts series (or the series itself concludes), to avoid having to go back and ret-con anything. Given how long that's likely to be in the future, it'll probably end up as an omake or "deleted scene".


	16. Cold

Harry was still asleep when Iruka woke the next morning, but they were the only two still in the Hospital Wing. It turned out later that Neville had been released the previous evening after Madam Pomfrey was sure that he'd merely been Stunned and that there were no lingering effects, and Crouch had been moved to a secure ward in Saint Mungo's under Auror guard. Iruka himself was released with a fresh dressing on his curse wound and an admonition to return after dinner to have it changed again, or sooner if the pain worsened or the wound reopened. Returning to his quarters, he found a note informing him of a meeting in the Headmaster's office after lunch, and that Albus would be out of pocket until that point.

There was really only one helpful or productive thing that the chuunin could do before then. He pulled out his mirror. "Uzumaki Naruto."

After a few seconds, Iruka's reflection was replaced by that of the Seventh Hokage, genial as usual but with a hint of confusion and worry in his expression due to the unexpected call. _«Hey, Iruka-sensei, what's up?»_

«Harry was kidnapped last night. We managed to rescue him, and he'll recover, but he was tortured and Voldemort is back.»

In an instant Naruto's demeanor changed. Gone was the carefree prankster, the loud orange nuisance, the ramen addict; in his place was the Seventh Hokage, hero of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, the man who went toe-to-toe with someone acclaimed as a god and won. _«What do you need?»_

«We need to start looking for ways to speed up the process of establishing a two-way link,» Iruka replied, «and get some shinobi started on learning English. In open battle, a couple squads of ANBU would demolish almost any opposition this war could present. If we could move people and materiel between worlds more readily, I'd be a lot more confident in our victory.»

 _«Shikamaru and Kakashi-sensei have already learned English, at least enough to read those books you sent. I'll give the order for ANBU to start studying up, and make some of the basic English-learning materials available to the rest of the village.»_ He gave a significant look to someone out-of-frame, a nod, then turned back to the mirror. _«More copies of that kind of thing would be good, along with more on the geography, society, culture, and all that, not to mention anything on the kind of jutsu they might face. It'll take a few weeks to charge the array, but I'll be sending Gamato for anything you can scrounge up. I'll send him with a load of weapons, pills, seals, and anything else we can come up with between now and then to help out.»_

Iruka nodded. «I hate to change plans like this, but I won't be coming home just yet for obvious reasons.»

Naruto scoffed. _«Well, yeah! No way would you bail out on your students and friends when they're in danger, y'know? You said it'd take at least a year or two to get that transport thing going, and that's a long time to be away from people you want to be protecting. Just see if there's anybody else that could get it started in your place, maybe start people here on magic and help them learn English better?»_

«I'll see what I can do,» Iruka said hesitantly, «but I can't think of anybody that would be willing to go and able to help. Pandora would be the best option, but that would mean leaving her husband and daughter behind in a war zone. Not exactly what I'd call likely.»

 _«Yeah, I figured that, but keep your eyes open. Now, what in the Sage's name_ happened _?»_

Iruka gave a full report, including a breakdown of his side of the battle. He'd send the written version with Gamato.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

After a few hours of chatting with Naruto, and later Shikamaru as well, about planning for the coming conflict, Iruka ate a quick lunch and headed for the Headmaster's office. Inside, he found not only Albus but also Sirius, Remus, Madam Bones, and Alastor Moody. None of them looked like they'd gotten much sleep since last night.

"Ah, Iruka, excellent." Albus gestured to the one vacant chair. "Please, have a seat."

Once the chuunin was seated and had a cup of tea in his hands, Albus continued. "We are gathered here because we are some of the only people in Britain to recognize the return of Lord Voldemort as real, with the obvious exception of his Death Eaters. I thought it best that we bring each other up to date on matters as they currently stand, and perhaps discuss our actions going forward."

"To summarize the current situation," the Headmaster began, "Harry Potter was abducted last evening and made part of the ritual which restored Lord Voldemort to a proper body. Iruka and I rescued Harry, battling the Death Eaters to do so; we are certain of at least four fatalities among those we faced and several injuries of a range of severities, though I can only identify one of those slain. Minister Fudge was unable to accept the truth of Voldemort's rebirth, but fortuitously for us Iruka was able to convince him to accept that a threat _does_ exist, even if he is in denial about its true nature. The Ministry is therefore beginning some subtle moves to prepare for the coming strife. I shudder to think of the consequences should Voldemort have gotten the opportunity to rebuild his forces in secret before unleashing them at full strength against an unprepared nation."

"I've already been recalled," Moody said, "probably figuring I'll be more use training recruits than teachin' schoolkids. Sorry, Albus, but you'll be needing a new Defense Professor again."

Madam Bones nodded. "Cornelius has already authorized an increase in my budget for recruitment and training, though it'll take some careful maneuvering to keep it relatively unnoticed. Even then, we all know the Ministry leaks like a sieve; there's no way this recruitment drive will stay secret for long."

"Then why not divide the added funds a bit?" Iruka asked. At everyone's quizzical looks, he elaborated. "Do some new recruitment through normal channels, and hide it as best you can, but put the rest of the funds towards something else, like hiring existing Aurors and Hit-Wizards from other countries. Anyone looking for the Ministry's response will find your hidden increase in recruitment, and figure that's all there is. One of the best places to hide a secret is behind another secret, after all."

If he didn't know who they were truly directed against, it would have really disturbed Iruka to see Moody and the Marauders wearing matching vicious grins. "Just don't tell Fudge about the foreign hires," Sirius commented. "Lucky Lucy Malfoy would find out about them in short order. Let them all think that the stepped-up Auror recruitment and training program is all we're doing."

"It could work," Bones said thoughtfully, "we'd have to do everything through back-channels and personal contacts, but it could definitely work." She shook herself a bit. "We checked over the graveyard last night, and as expected there was nobody still around. The cauldron, the knife, and the bodies of the dead were all missing as well, though we couldn't determine whether they were taken away or disposed of some other way. Nobody's reported any sudden deaths or strange injuries yet, but we'll probably get news of the deaths of certain 'upstanding citizens' over the next week or two."

She slumped with a sigh before straightening back up. "Barty Crouch was finally lucid enough to question this morning..." She proceeded to relate the tragic story of a man driven to criminality for the love of his wife.

"Bloody hypocrite," Sirius snarled, "throws me in Azkaban without even a trial, then busts out his caught-in-the-act son. All that ranting and railing against Dark witches and wizards, and he was keeping up an Unforgiveable for over a decade."

Bones nodded. "He lost his hold over his son last spring. Apparently the inquiry over his part in your imprisonment added stress and cost sleep, weakening his will, until the spell finally snapped during an interview at the Ministry that he couldn't beg out of. By the time he got home, Barty Junior and their house-elf Winky were both long gone."

"They came back in early summer," she continued, "bringing You-Know-Who and his snake with them. From then on it was the elder Barty under the Imperius, with Junior impersonating him at times using Polyjuice Potion. They managed to steal You-Know-Who's wand from the DMLE's evidence lockup and replace it with a fake, and tried to enter Harry Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire. Apparently the plan was to enter him under a non-existent fourth school, then Confund the Goblet into thinking there _were_ four schools to guarantee Potter's name came out. From there, they'd have altered the Portkey on the Triwizard Cup to add an intermediate destination, and sabotaged the other Champions to make sure Potter was the first to reach it."

"And since I was the one to enchant the Cup as a Portkey," Albus observed, "it would have taken Harry out through Hogwarts' wards. Stealing him from Hogwarts while I watched, using a Portkey of my own creation no less, would have greatly appealed to Voldemort."

"That explains how he got his original wand back," Iruka said, "and why Crouch kept walking by while I was watching over the Goblet."

Madam Bones let out a tired chuckle. "Yes, apparently Barty Junior and his master were quite... _frustrated_ by that." Her expression sobered. "According to Winky, who Barty was able to call as her only living master, Junior and You-Know-Who came across Bertha Jorkins while she was holidaying in Albania. Before they killed her, they were able to get the full details of the plans for the Triwizard, which is why they were planning around it. Oh, and apparently it was Junior who cast the Dark Mark at the World Cup, angry at all those Death Eaters that avoided Azkaban by denying their master. He managed to duck under the Stunners by those people responding to the Mark, but didn't bother to have his Imperiused father do the same. They were both at the World Cup because Junior was a big Quidditch fan and hadn't been to a game in years - he hid under an Invisibility Cloak the whole time."

"He probably took some satisfaction from the role-reversal with the Imperius," Iruka commented, "but I'm guessing that the senior Crouch came running to Hogwarts when his son died and the curse was lifted?"

Bones nodded. "He was mostly incoherent, still is a lot of the time, because of how long he was under the curse. Given enough time he'll probably recover, but he's looking at life in Azkaban for use of an Unforgiveable. The trial is going to be a mess, but Crouch has at least some sense of responsibility and has said he'll plead guilty to minimize the trouble caused."

"That could be helpful," Remus commented. "If he started ranting about You-Know-Who being back in front of the Wizengamot, that could get Fudge's back up and make him reconsider his current position in ways that wouldn't exactly be in our favor."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "and what of your task, Remus?"

"Too soon to say for sure," the werewolf replied, "though I'm not expecting much success. I'm already not particularly well-liked among other werewolves for being the only one allowed a Hogwarts education after being infected, nor for holding such strong ties to the wizarding community. Greyback and his pack will side with You-Know-Who, same as last time, but I'm worried that they'll get more support thanks to all the anti-werewolf laws the Ministry has enacted in recent years thanks to Dolores Umbit- er, Umbridge."

Albus nodded with a bit of tired amusement at his former student's slip. "Well, do what you can. Please, keep us apprised as to their current disposition - even knowing how many will follow Greyback into Voldemort's service would help. Sirius, I trust you've been contacting many of the old crowd?"

"Yeah, those of us still around. A few will want to talk to you personally before they do anything, but nobody's told me to hop off a broom yet. There's also a few other people I'd like to talk to, but it's a coin toss whether they'll even believe You-Know-Who's back, let alone be willing to actually work against him."

"So you're reforming your Order of the Phoenix, then?" Amelia Bones's face was stony at the question, though Iruka caught a hint of old pain.

"I am," the Headmaster confirmed soberly, "and I beg at least your tolerance of our activities when circumstances demand that we act outside the confines of the law. I can understand your reluctance to join us, but I hope that we can at least coordinate our efforts with those of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I don't like it," the iron-haired witch replied, "Merlin knows, but we're going to need everyone working together on this if we want to save this country while there's still enough of a country left to be worth saving."

"Sorry to interrupt," Iruka interrupted, "but I take it this 'Order of the Phoenix' is some sort of vigilante group?"

Moody nodded, after a glance at Albus. "Aye, it is. You and Amelia are the only people in this office that weren't part of it last time around. Albus brought a group of us together to work against the Dark Bastard on the sly, gathering information and acting where the Aurors couldn't."

"I was intending to ask if you would join us," the Headmaster picked up.

"Of course," Iruka replied. "Voldemort is actively targeting one of my students, and the others will be in danger as well. I will protect my students with everything I have, and this Order of yours sounds like a way to help."

"Welcome aboard, then," Sirius smiled warmly, before turning to Dumbledore. "Also, I'd like to offer my place as a headquarters: It's got some of the best wards in the country outside of Hogwarts, and you can't really get away with locking down the castle right now. It'll give us somewhere secure to meet, maybe act as a safehouse or staging ground as needed."

"Thank you, Sirius," Albus beamed, "that would be immensely helpful. With your permission, I would like to supplement your wards with a Fidelius Charm. While we do already have tragic proof that it is far from a perfect defense, it will at least add a further layer of security."

"That's a good idea," the last Black agreed, "though no pussyfooting around this time - I can't really be Secret Keeper for my own home, so next best choice is you. If you betray us, we're buggered anyway, likewise if they can actually capture you and force the secret out. We tried to be clever last time and it got James and Lily killed."

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I appreciate your trust in my character, though I am certain that the Order and Wizarding Britain would do far better than you suggest even were I to fall. We shall have to speak later to arrange a time for the casting of the Fidelius."

There were only a few more minor issues brought up after that, and soon enough the gathering began to break up. Iruka asked Sirius to remain behind with him, leaving Remus to depart with a concerned look on his face. Once it was just the three of them left in the office, Iruka turned to the Headmaster.

"I asked Sirius to stay because he's Harry's guardian and as such has a right to be here for this discussion," the chuunin began. "When we were watching Harry's memory last night, you reacted strangely at one point during the ritual. Something made you hopeful, almost happy, when Crouch was taking Harry's blood. What was it about that act that was good news?"

Albus slumped, focusing on Iruka without meeting Sirius's glare. "It was a hope against the darkest secret of this conflict, a fact I have kept to myself whilst praying that I could prove my conclusions in the matter wrong or find some ready solution. Alas, all of my efforts toward such ends have failed, with none of my research over the past two years bearing useful fruit."

"Two years?" Sirius asked, his agitation visible, "You-Know-Who was gone for over thirteen years. What the bloody hell could have happened two years ago?"

Iruka's blood turned to ice as seemingly random facts fell into place, the disjointed pieces finally assembling into a clear and horrible image. "The diary," he said dully, staring hard into Dumbledore's eyes, "Horcruxes."

The Headmaster nodded gravely, while Sirius just looked confused and increasingly angry. "Would somebody tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?!"

"Harry's scar is a Horcrux," the words tasted like bile and ash on Iruka's tongue, "or at least something very close to one. It's why his scar hurt around Quirrell and when Voldemort was feeling strong emotions. It's the source of the vision he had over the summer. It might even be how he gained the ability to speak Parseltongue. Albus probably figured it out during his research of the destroyed diary, and has since been trying to figure out a way to safely remove it."

"No," Sirius collapsed into his chair, the growing redness of his face replaced by a deathly pallor, "it can't be. Not Harry..."

"That is precisely how I reacted," Albus said sympathetically, "and I have pursued every avenue of research I could find in search of a way to purge that fragment of Tom Riddle's soul from Harry without harming him."

"But-" the former prisoner struggled to speak past his emotions, "but why would You-Know-Who make Harry a Horcrux and then try to kill him?"

"We obviously cannot know for sure," Dumbledore replied, "but I strongly believe that it actually occurred in the opposite order. When Lily's sacrifice caused Tom's spell to rebound upon him, this spell designed to cleave the soul from the body encountered a soul already badly damaged and weakened by the making of multiple Horcruxes, with this damage compounded by the two murders committed that very night. The result was that, in addition to destroying Lord Voldemort's body, it sheared yet another piece away from his tattered soul. This piece then attached itself to Harry, effectively forming an accidental Horcrux."

Iruka frowned. "You said that the container is supposed to be prepared in advance, and that a spell is used to bind the soul fragment to it. If neither of those happened in this case, could that have made the attachment weaker, more tenuous?"

"It is possible," Albus agreed, "and that possibility is one that I have investigated heavily in my research. Unfortunately, very little is actually recorded about Horcruxes, in part because so few people have been desperate enough or vile enough to create one. Even the creation of multiple Horcruxes by the same wizard is unprecedented, and there is no known case of anything similar to Harry's affliction aside from instances of possession, another rare and ill-understood phenomenon."

"But now there's hope," Sirius said desperately, "right?"

"I believe so, yes." The Headmaster nodded. "By incorporating Harry's blood, containing Lily's protective magic, into his own body, I suspect that Lord Voldemort has tied his and Harry's lives together to a degree. Under the right circumstances, this could allow Voldemort himself to act as an anchor for Harry's life, and allow Harry to survive while the Horcrux is destroyed. Unfortunately, this is all presently only a hypothesis, and it will take considerable additional research to determine what conditions would maximize Harry's chances of survival."

"Whatever you need," Sirius said, " _anything_. Say the word and you'll have it. I refuse to allow Harry to be sacrificed for anything, even killing that monster. If we have to run off to Timbuktu and hide for the rest of our lives while Britain burns, I'll do it, but Harry _will_ survive this mess and only die when he's older than dirt and surrounded by his great-great-grandkids."

"I would expect no less," Albus reassured him. "I would ask however that neither of you discuss this matter with Harry yet. His connection to Voldemort was already strong enough for a vision of Tom's activities to break through Harry's rudimentary mental defenses over the summer; now that Tom has returned to his full power, not to mention further connected himself to Harry, I fear that he might be able to access Harry's senses, invade his memories, or even influence his emotions and actions. Hopefully Harry will be better able to block this connection with a redoubled effort at Occlumency, but until we are certain that his mind is secure from remote tampering it is too great a risk to share such vital information with him."

"I've got an idea," Iruka ventured, "something I might be able to do in the near term and an avenue of research that could help actually solve the problem. The former should work, assuming I've got the skills to pull it off; the latter... It's a deal with the devil, but it might just be the best chance Harry has. I'll need to call Naruto - if you don't mind, Headmaster?"

Albus nodded. "Please, Iruka, we will at least consider anything that may help."

Iruka pulled out his two-way mirror. "Uzumaki Naruto"

Again, the Seventh Hokage answered within seconds, this time looking distinctly worried. _«News?»_

«I've just learned that Harry's scar is a Horcrux or something similar, and Albus is worried that Voldemort could use the connection to spy or influence him. Given the similarities to Orochimaru's curse mark, I'd like to try blocking the connection by applying the **Fūja Hōin** , so I'll need a set of instructions and probably some time talking to somebody that's actually performed it. Beyond that...» He hesitated. «Beyond that I think we might need to consult with Orochimaru himself. He knows more about this type of kinjutsu than anyone else, though he'd need to learn about magic as well.»

Naruto scowled. _«I_ really _don't like the idea of giving the snake bastard access to even more power and jutsu than he already has, but maybe researching magic will keep him busy enough to keep him quiet for a good long while. I'll send him a message, and you'll get those instructions when we send Gamato over.»_

Ending the call, Iruka turned to the two wizards. "The next package from Konoha will include instructions for a fairly high-level seal that I'm hoping will cut off the Horcrux's ability to affect Harry. It'll take some time for me to learn it, but I'll be consulting with someone that's actually applied it before."

"And what exactly will this seal that you want to place on my godson do?" Sirius's suspicion was understandable, given his recent shock.

"It basically creates a barrier of sorts around whatever's being sealed, keeping it separate from the host. You'll recall I've mentioned the curse mark that Orochimaru used to apply to people?" Both men nodded. "This seal has been used to keep it contained, block it off. The usual risk is that the seal's power is dependant on the will of the person it's applied to - for example, when Sasuke wasn't entirely refusing the power his curse mark offered, it was able to influence him and he was able to access it. Somehow I doubt this will be a problem in Harry's case."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Yeah, Harry won't want anything to do with the Dark Tosser, and he's already shown he's got willpower to spare."

Iruka nodded. "Exactly. Other than the visibility of the location, and the fact that I might end up having to shave his head to mark out the seal, it's really a best-case scenario for using this technique."

"So the completed seal will be visible?" Albus's expression was contemplative.

"Yes, in the shape of a ring around the affected area with some spokes radiating out a short ways."

"We'll need some way to cover or hide it," Sirius observed, "or people will talk. It'd mean a lot of unwanted attention on Harry, and might tip off You-Know-Who that we know about his Horcruxes."

"Glamour charms are notoriously fickle," Albus frowned, "and have a habit of failing if even slightly disturbed. Do you know of any solutions, Iruka?"

"The standard shinobi disguise method is pretty similar in its limitations," the chuunin answered, "especially for users without much experience. Given that Harry hasn't even _learned_ the **Henshin no Jutsu** , it wouldn't be practical. Regular makeup seems like our best bet, doubly so if it can be charmed or otherwise magically-enhanced."

Sirius slapped his own forehead. "Right. No sense trying something complicated and hard when simple and easy would work better. Do we know anybody that actually _uses_ makeup, though?"

Iruka gave the dog animagus a dry look. "I might not have been the one _teaching_ the lessons on infiltration and disguise, that doesn't mean I'm not trained myself. It doesn't exactly take an expert to apply a bit of concealer."

"Indeed," Albus chuckled, "but what of the other aspect of your inquiry?"

"I've asked the Seventh to contact Orochimaru, to ask him to consult with us about removing the soul fragment safely. He's an unquestioned and unrepentant monster, but he's also my world's top expert in our equivalent of Dark magic. Throw in the similarities between his curse mark and Harry's scar, and between Orochimaru himself and Voldemort, and he could be a vital resource."

Dumbledore and Black both scowled. "I do not relish the idea of going to such an individual for help," the Headmaster stated darkly, "especially not knowing what the price may be."

"The 'price' as you put it might actually not be a problem," Iruka said. "Just the opportunity to research a new field of jutsu will be a big deal for him. He's not trying to become some sort of tyrannical god-king like Riddle is - Orochimaru's ambitions revolve around mastering every jutsu ever created. That insatiable curiosity is one of his strongest motivations, along with a love of novelty and change. A research collaboration regarding magic would appeal to both of those."

"I shall have to see if I can obtain another pair of two-way mirrors," Albus mused. "It would facilitate communications if I could speak with this Orochimaru without needing to borrow your mirror, especially given that I presume he would have to travel to and from Konoha for each such conversation."

"I'll give you a few names," Sirius shrugged, "though at this point you might need to tap a few of your ICW contacts to find somebody with a pair they're willing to sell."

After a few minutes of discussing minutiae, Iruka and Sirius took their leave, though not before Albus asked the chuunin to return after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add "Moody and the Marauders" to the list of accidental band names created by this fic...
> 
> Also, the idea of hiring in foreign Aurors/Hit-Wizards came to me while writing this chapter. Actually, the whole issue of "anything the Ministry does the Death Eaters will know about" didn't really hit me till writing that scene, and Iruka's suggested solution was something I came up with in pretty much real time (which makes it a bit more plausible that he'd come up with it on such short notice).
> 
> The Fūja Hōin is the seal Kakashi applies to the curse mark on Sasuke. I (and Iruka) figure that it might help block the connection between Harry and Voldemort. And yes, it would totally work on the Dark Mark at least as well as it does on Orochimaru's curse marks.
> 
> There's a quote I heard from somewhere, "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme." This is pretty close to summing up my attitude towards canon events in fanfic: Stuff shouldn't happen exactly the same way beat-for-beat unless it's completely unaffected by previous changes, but the same people in similar circumstances will take similar actions. Also, having events in the fic echo canon material but with a twist helps keep the story from going so far afield that you can't even see canon any longer - such stories tend to feel more like original work dressed up to look like a fanfic.
> 
> Good news everyone! *puts away Professor Farnsworth mask* I am getting quite close to finishing the writing on this series. Unless the remaining content stretches much longer than I expect it to, the overall story should come in at just over 90 chapters. Once I've got the entire story written, I intend to step up the release schedule to at least weekly.


	17. Assessment

Harry was awake and chatting quietly with his friends by the time Iruka returned to the Hospital Wing to check on him. The chuunin just stayed quiet and watched unobtrusively, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Of his five students, only Luna noticed his presence, flashing him a quick smile before returning to the conversation.

Given his ordeal last night, Harry was in remarkably high spirits, though a large part of that was likely due to being surrounded by friends. There were occasional flashes of worry and melancholy, not surprising all things considered, but they were well-hidden and swiftly buried. His right arm was still in its sling, but his left had only the subtlest of tremors when he reached for a tumbler of water from his nightstand. It might have been just the knowledge of what it truly represented, but the boy's famous scar seemed more pronounced than Iruka had ever seen it before, angry, red, and inflamed.

After a while, the group broke up and those not currently confined to Madam Pomfrey's fiefdom left to revise for their upcoming exams, Luna giving Iruka another nod on her way out. Once the two of them were alone, Iruka stepped into clear view and made his way over to Harry's bed. "How are you doing?"

The teen shrugged. "Better; Madam Pomfrey says I'll be here till the weekend. It's just so weird... I feel like... last night was horrible, but at the same time I got to talk to my parents, sort of at least. It's like with the Dementors - I don't know how to feel. Thinking about the future is simpler, but scary: Voldemort's back, at full power, and I don't even... he's going to be coming after me, he can't stand that I keep getting away from him, probably doesn't look too good to the Death Eaters too, so he'll keep trying until one of us is dead, and I feel like it's going to come down to me versus him at the end."

"I can't say you're wrong about that," Iruka sighed, "at least in terms of Riddle's actions. The fact that he keeps failing to kill you, first as a baby, then as an underage and as far as they know untrained student, makes him look weak. His seeming invincibility was one of his strongest weapons last time, from what I can gather; so few people were willing to oppose him because he always seemed to be able to get to those that did."

"That's what Hagrid said," Harry replied. "He said that nobody lived once Voldemort wanted them dead. It's the reason for the whole Boy-Who-Lived bollo- I mean, nonsense."

Iruka chuckled inwardly at his student's half-slip into vulgarity, suspecting that the teen was mentally hearing Hermione's voice chiding, _"Language!"_. "Exactly. You're a symbol of hope, a sign that he's not all-powerful or unstoppable or unbeatable. He won't have any chance of truly conquering this country as long as that hope remains, as long as you survive. And as much as we adults will be trying to prevent it, he'll be trying to reach you himself. After all, he can't exactly have someone else be seen doing something he couldn't - it would make him look weak and ineffective, and probably sow doubt and rebellion among some of his followers."

"Right now they're held in check mostly by a combination of fear and worship," the chuunin continued, "but if those start to falter he'll have to constantly worry about attacks from those closest to him, attempts to assassinate him and usurp his position. Call it an inherent risk in gathering followers that are ambitious and ruthless. Trying to deal with that threat _while_ fighting against external enemies would pretty much guarantee his downfall. That's why he was so aggressive towards his Death Eaters last night - they were the ones whose loyalty had already slipped back in '81, so he needed to reassert his dominance over them immediately or end up more paranoid than Moody." He chuckled. "They'd mostly even be worrying about the same people."

He made a mental note to relate this lesson to the rest of S.E.N. later. "That's the biggest problem with rule by fear: It's inherently unstable. If people obey you out of respect, or admiration, or loyalty, or love, then even if you do something to damage that they'll still like you even if they don't obey quite as readily. The bond will naturally strengthen itself over time, gradually increasing their regard for you even outside the chain of command. With fear, though, what builds over time is hostility; people don't like being afraid, and they naturally want to lash out at the things that _make_ them afraid."

"So we need to find ways to attack that fear," Harry observed, "so more people are willing to actually fight against him. Right now Fudge is too scared to even _think_ about Voldemort being back. If a lot of people are like that, it's no wonder the Death Eaters nearly won last time. That story you fed him - Fudge, I mean - will probably actually help get more people involved that would've been too scared if they knew the truth. I'm not sure I like the idea of bringing people into the fight by lying to them, but hopefully the truth will come out soon, before things get really nasty."

Iruka nodded. "Unfortunately, sometimes you have to deceive decent people; war is full of times when it would help your side to do things you'd normally consider wrong, and you have to judge whether it's worth doing a small bad thing to prevent something much worse. Of course there are some lines you _never_ cross, things you don't do no matter how bad things get, but while some are pretty obvious there are some that each person has to decide for themself on a case-by-case basis. It's one of the harder parts of working as a shinobi, or any kind of soldier, though we at least have training, Rules of Engagement, and the like to help us prepare. I'll go over some of that at the next S.E.N. meeting, and we can discuss how to adapt those rules to this situation."

The chuunin took a deep, fortifying breath. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about: You remember that dream you had of Voldemort over the summer?" Harry nodded. "Headmaster Dumbledore is concerned that your scar might be acting as a sort of link between you and Riddle." He could see his student tense up in worry. "I've got something coming from Konoha that I hope will help, but it won't be ready until summer at the earliest. Until then, you need to work extra-hard on your mental defenses, and we're going to have to keep some secrets from you."

"You're worried about him getting the knowledge through the link?" Harry asked.

"Exactly. It wasn't a big concern before, but now that he's back to full power he may be able to do things he couldn't before. We don't know if he has any idea the link even exists, but if he ever does he might try to use it against you and us. I'll still try to keep you in the loop as much as possible, but until we've done everything we can to close off that connection you're going to be mostly on a need-to-know basis."

"That makes sense," Harry nodded. "It doesn't matter how much you trust me to keep something to myself if I _can't_ keep it secret. Telling me something, you might as well just say it in a random corridor where anyone could overhear as long as Voldemort and I are connected like this. I can deal with not knowing everything yet if it keeps it secret from him, but _please_ do what you can to get rid of this thing, whatever it is. Being near Voldemort last night made me feel like my head was splitting open, and that was _before_ he touched me."

"We're working on it," Iruka reassured him, "though right now we only have a way to hopefully block it off. The Headmaster has already started working on something more thorough, and I'm hoping to put him in touch with a shinobi whose knowledge might be helpful."

"Who?" Unfortunately, Harry had caught his teacher's slight evasion.

The chuunin drooped slightly. "Orochimaru." At his student's appalled face, he continued hastily: "The similarity between your scar and his curse mark, plus his studies into forbidden topics, mean he's pretty much _the_ expert on such things. None of us like going to him for help, not with the things he's done, but it's our best chance. If we're lucky, it'll also keep him too busy studying magic to cause trouble, and given the commonalities between him and Riddle he might be able to advise us on other matters."

"I don't like it either," Harry sighed, "but I guess you're right that he's the one that would know the most about this kind of thing, and about how Voldemort is likely to think and react. This must be one of those ugly things you end up having to do in war, huh?"

Iruka shrugged sadly. "More or less, yeah."

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**V**

Albus wasn't present at dinner that evening, taking his meal in his office while continuing to work. Iruka was mildly surprised when Filius joined him for the trip up to the Headmaster's office.

The two were quickly seated, before Albus leaned forward. "I've asked you here this evening because recent developments make it probable that your quintet of students may find themselves in combat with Death Eaters in the relatively near future. While we shall all endeavor to prevent this, it has been shown repeatedly that even our best efforts are not always sufficient. It is for this reason that I wish to hear your assessment of each of their capabilities."

At a 'go ahead' gesture from Iruka, Filius was the first to respond. "In terms of their magical strength, all five are exceptionally powerful, most beyond even the strongest of our graduating Seventh-Years. Messrs. Potter and Longbottom actually have more raw power available than some of the staff at this point, with Ms. Weasley being comparable to a typical N.E.W.T. student. Each has their own particular strong and weak points: Ms. Weasley is aggressive, quick, and accurate in her spellwork, favoring painful and debilitating hexes including some not taught as part of the standard Hogwarts curriculum that I suspect she learned from her brothers. Her speed and reflexes also make her quite adept at dodging spells."

"On the shinobi side of things," Iruka picked up, "she's got the least chakra of the group due to her late start, and her control isn't spectacular. Physically, she's already basically caught up to the other four, and has actually passed them in terms of skill in taijutsu and shurikenjutsu. Her biggest weak point is her tendency to over-focus on the target she's attacking and neglect her defense somewhat."

Filius spoke again. "Ms. Lovegood generally fights defensively, though when she does go on the attack her choice of spells is maddeningly unpredictable, often using seemingly-harmless spells in creative ways to frustrate her opponents. In general, she prefers gentler offensive spells, hardly surprising considering her gentle nature. She's also picked up a significant amount of knowledge on basic healing magic. Defensively, she favors evasion for herself while providing cover for her allies in group exercises."

"She's the most flexible of the five," the chuunin took over smoothly, "with great situational awareness. Her chakra pool is substantial given how old she was when she started training, and her control is good enough that I intend to start her on tree-walking and water-walking in our next training session. Her taijutsu and shurikenjutsu are both lagging behind the rest, though, and she's the physically weakest of the five."

"Ms. Granger has the broadest repertoire of spells," the Charms professor continued, "often pulling out more obscure items she's picked up from neglected library volumes. She's not very quick at casting, but makes up for that with complex spell-chains of her own creation. Those are quite clever, by the way - she's carefully selected each spell based upon what defenses work best against it, making sure that the same defense won't work well against two spells in a row and even creating situations where blocking or countering one spell leaves one vulnerable to the one that follows it. I've faced a few opponents in my dueling days that did the same, and it can be quite a nasty surprise if you're not prepared for it. More often, though, she sticks to Transfiguration for offense. Her defense could be better, mostly because she relies more heavily on blocking rather than dodging, and she has difficulty improvising."

Iruka nodded agreement. "Her taijutsu's decent, but not spectacular, though she's stronger than she looks. Her chakra capacity is a bit low, but her control is second only to Luna's, and she's close to tree-climbing as well."

Filius picked back up. "Mr. Longbottom is a powerful young wizard, one who I fully expect to surpass even most of Hogwarts faculty in raw power by the time he's twenty. Two years of casting through an incompatible wand have trained him to focus his will, intent, and power at a level few wizards ever achieve, and combined with that raw power... His casting is slow and deliberate, but his shields are tremendously durable and his spells strike almost as hard as yours, Albus. He has a very narrow repertoire, but those spells he does learn he masters thoroughly, to the point where he's already close to casting a couple of them silently."

"It's a similar story physically," Iruka observed. "He's getting quite strong, though he's the slowest of the five. His chakra pool is also quite large, albeit with only middling control. Shurikenjutsu doesn't seem to suit him, but in terms of taijtusu, well, any Death Eater that Neville can get his hands on is going to be in _serious_ trouble."

"Lastly, Mister Potter," Filius said, "has both the power and aptitude to be the most capable wizard of his generation. His power is of a level with Mr. Longbottom's, and his speed and accuracy like those of Ms. Weasley. Mr. Longbottom still casts with greater force, admittedly, but it is still a formidable combination. He seems to have an intuitive knack for defensive magic, and for its application."

"Harry's definitely the fastest of the five," the chuunin stated, "especially when it comes to dodging attacks. He's the only one so far to be able to sense sakki, or to react to attacks from his blind side." Iruka suspected, though he wasn't about to say here, that this was a legacy of 'Harry Hunting'. "While Neville has the most pure stamina, Harry's got the determination and willpower to match him in endurance contests, and to fight even when injured or otherwise hurt." All three men frowned at the reminder of how he'd had to do exactly that the night before.

"Beyond that," Iruka hesitated before continuing, "he's the only one to really be able to cast with lethal intent. That's not to say it's impossible for the others, but it would depend much more strongly on the circumstances. Harry can be ruthless when he needs to be, putting aside his deep well of empathy in order to defend himself and others."

There were a few moments of contemplative silence at that, before Albus spoke. "I see. As little as I like the fact that such things are part of any child's life, it is at least comforting that your students will be able to protect themselves to at least some degree if threatened."

"They will," Filius responded firmly, "not against You-Know-Who himself of course, but all five are well beyond the level of most adult witches and wizards. One-on-one against a more skilled opponent like an Auror," the 'or a Death Eater' went unsaid, "the outcome would depend on a number of factors, but I'm certain that they'd be able to at least hold out for a brief time, long enough to potentially escape or receive aid. Group-against-group in equal numbers, their chances would improve significantly thanks to the teamwork exercises Iruka suggested, with the full five together able to press me quite hard in spite of my knowledge of their abilities and fighting styles."

Iruka nodded. "When two or more of them work together, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. They all know each other well enough at this point to anticipate each other's actions to a degree, something Luna's particularly good at, and coordinate with minimal effort. From what I saw last night, the Death Eaters don't fight as a team without prompting, acting as a mob of individuals rather than a coordinated unit. They were getting in each other's way fairly often, and more than once I saw one of your transfigured animals get through because the Death Eaters weren't coordinating their defense. The only time _any_ of them acted to protect anyone but themself was when one of the ones I fought ordered a couple others to cast shields to cover the group."

Albus nodded. "Their selfishness and callous disregard for the wellbeing of others, even their allies, is a weakness I've noted in the past. There are exceptions, of course, mostly in the form of family members actually working together and watching each other's backs, but by and large two Death Eaters are exactly twice as dangerous as one."

"Regardless," he continued, "thank you gentlemen for your assessment. I hate to be rude, but I still have a great deal yet to do and so must bid you both goodnight."

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**V**

A week later, the two visiting school delegations joined their hosts for one final feast. Igor Karkaroff was not present, however, having been missing since the night of the Third Task and Harry's abduction. Given that he was an ex-Death Eater who had only escaped Azkaban by informing on his fellows, the presumption was that he had fled when his former master returned. Lord Voldemort was not, after all, known for being merciful to those who betrayed him.

As the meal wound down, Albus stood and waited for the students to quiet. "Another year done," he began, his voice carrying throughout the Great Hall, "and such an eventful year it has been! We have been privileged to host our guests from the Continent for an exciting competition between the finest our schools had to offer. It filled my heart with joy watching as so many new friendships began to grow, along with more than one budding romance." He grinned warmly, his eyes twinkling at full power. "I encourage you all to remain in contact with your new friends and companions, to treasure the bonds you have begun to build." The Headmaster paused, sobering. "Sadly, not all of this year's extraordinary events were of a positive nature: One of our own students was abducted, assaulted, and very nearly murdered before a rescue could be effected. Those party to this crime are still at large, and give every indication that they have even more nefarious plans developing. It is my belief - and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times." Most of those in the Hall looked worried at this, though some simply looked stoically impassive, and a number of those at the Slytherin table were failing to hide their smug expressions. "For this reason I implore you all to prepare yourselves and your families against the coming darkness. We must all come together, for we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. These criminals seek to cause chaos, to spread discord and enmity, and we can fight them only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. Troubled times lie ahead, but with unity, and courage, and perseverance, and wisdom, and compassion, I truly believe that we can weather this coming storm and emerge once more into the bright light of day."

There had been a subtle tension among the school's population ever since Harry's abduction, and while Albus's speech didn't exactly amplify it, it did bring that tension into clearer focus. The mixed excitement and melancholy that had pervaded the student body at the end of the previous Leaving Feasts that Iruka had seen was now tinged with concern and wary uncertainty. More than one student would find their sleep elusive or troubled that night.

* * *

**Defense Teacher Omake!**

From: meteor13  
Teacher: Albus Dumbledore, because he's tired of having to search for a new DADA teacher every year  
Reason for Leaving: The salary was too low to pay for his sweets addiction.

From: WindbornesWord  
Teacher: Maito Gai  
Reason for Leaving: All the parents were highly concerned when their children came home during the winter break and started yelling about youth while wearing green jumpsuits. They all banded together and begged the board to remove him. It leads to the students bidding their teacher farewell at the end of the year culminating with a massive "Sunset Jutsu" that blinds the Board permanently.

* * *

**Omake!**

**A little bit that I wrote based on another version of this fic's concept, in which Iruka arrives later and doesn't have nearly as smooth a time with Dumbledore.**

"I will not be lectured by a man who trained _child soldiers_!" Dumbledore thundered.

"As if you're any different!" Iruka retorted. "I've spoken to Harry, you know; it took a while, but I got him to open up about what's gone on around here the past four years. He's been thrown into one life-or-death crisis after another, and almost all have your fingerprints all over them! You seem to routinely expect children to save each other, your school, and even your entire country with little or no adult aid."

"Actually," he continued, "if anything, you're much _worse_ than the Hidden Villages. Our shinobi are all volunteers, at least in Konoha, and they enter their training with their parents' full knowledge and consent. Do the Grangers or Weasleys know just how much danger you've subjected their children to? Ninja are also paid for their work, with actual money rather than House Points and empty praise, or worse outright ridicule and abuse. Genin are trained for years before they see any actual combat, and even then they're not sent on missions where they're expected to come up against enemies above their skill level. You threw a child who'd known of magic for less than a year up against a pair of wizards with decades of combined experience, not to mention the fact that one of them was the one responsible for all of his self-defense training up to that point. Our genin are also supported in the field by their jounin teacher, so that even if things get much nastier than expected they have someone to protect them. Only once has one of your staff stepped in to protect Harry against an opponent beyond his abilities."

"You," the chuunin hissed, "have essentially conscripted an untrained child as your soldier - no, your _weapon_ \- against one of the most powerful and dangerous wizards in the world. He has received no special training, no real support or assistance, no attempt to prepare him to actually win the confrontation you seem intent on arranging. So I guess you're not using a child soldier - you're grooming a _child martyr_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I won't be showing the scene where S.E.N. set up their own Rules of Engagement. It'd be a long, boring discussion to read and an utter nightmare to write - I do not want to have to argue ethics and morality with myself from six different perspectives.
> 
> Sorry for the long listing of the five kids' strengths and weaknesses, but it was really the only way (other than an internal monologue during training, which would have been clumsier) that I could really set out explicitly where the group and its members stand. They're not ready for the front lines yet by any means, and even ignorant of their abilities someone like Moody or a healthy Bellatrix would be able to beat the whole group unless luck or circumstances skewed hard in S.E.N.'s favor. Of course, anybody on that level is already at or past their peak, while our young heroes are rapidly growing in both skill and power...


	18. Darkening

"I had a thought, Albus." Iruka had sought a meeting with the Headmaster shortly before the end of term. "Those transport circles Pandora and I've developed - the ones not designed to cross dimensions - should be able to bypass normal anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards. If the Death Eaters go back to their old trick of 'trap and burn' our circles could provide a vital means of escape, one that our enemies don't even know _to_ interdict, let alone how."

Dumbledore perked up, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, I think that could work rather well, though there are some factors to consider: As you stated, one of your circles' greatest assets in this matter is the simple fact that Tom and his followers are completely unaware of their existence. Whatever plan we construct must take this into account, closing off wherever possible any avenues by which the circles could be discovered or, once their existence became known, analyzed. Beyond that, while the path a circle-traveler takes cannot be assailed, its end-points aren't so inviolate. The destination we select must therefore be a location which we deem sufficiently secure to receive evacuees."

Iruka nodded. "Let's start with picking a destination, then: It needs to be somewhere secure, as you said. Given the circumstances under which people would be fleeing by circle, it would also make sense to have some form of medical aid readily available. Of the places I know, that basically leaves either Hogwarts or Saint Mungo's, but the latter would badly compromise the secrecy you just spoke of."

"Hogwarts it is," Albus agreed happily. "Sadly but fortunately, this castle has numerous disused classrooms, offices, and other areas which could be used as a destination point. A couple of portraits or perhaps a rotation of house-elves could monitor the chosen room and alert the staff should anyone arrive there. We would, of course, have to secure such a room against inquisitive students."

"Don't forget," the chuunin pointed out, "we still haven't worked out a way to link more than two circles. Every escape circle will need its own separate destination array. Also, I'd say we should secure the room against unauthorized exit as well as entry, just in case the attackers manage to join the evacuees or otherwise make use of the circle themselves. We do _not_ want a group of Death Eaters at liberty in the castle, especially during term."

Dumbledore nodded. "That, of course, begs the question of how the circles themselves could be further secured."

Iruka thought for a few moments. "It wouldn't be hard at all to make the circles only function in one direction, so they can't be used as a way to sneak into people's homes. Beyond that, I think we could work out a sort of linked array, activated when the circle is triggered, that would destroy the circle thoroughly enough to prevent it being used or studied by the Death Eaters. Obviously we'd have to include a time-delay, but that's easy enough... Yeah, I think we could set up the escape circles to more or less self-destruct shortly after use. Let me talk to Pandora; we should have the necessary modification ready in a couple days."

"Excellent!" Albus beamed before his look of relief melted into one of resignation. "Now all that remains is to determine who will receive these potentially life-saving circles, in what order," his expression darkened further, "and who will not. As much as I wish I could ensure the safety of every good person in this country..."

"We don't know how long we'll have until such escape routes become necessary," the chuunin finished grimly, "and as much as we want to protect everyone, some of them wouldn't be able to keep the circles a secret, which would only endanger more people."

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "It is no simple thing to potentially condemn friends, some of whom I have known for decades, to what could very well be a torturous and horrific death. Unfortunately I cannot deny that more innocent lives will likely be saved by keeping these circles secret, at least for the present. Perhaps, once they've become known to our enemies, we might be free to provide them to more people."

Iruka nodded somberly. "Knowingly sacrificing friends and comrades is one of the heaviest burdens of command. The worry that I'd have to do so at some point was one of the reasons I gave up field missions in favor of teaching and administrative work. Thankfully I managed to avoid that situation ever coming up, but a lot of other chuunin and jounin weren't nearly so lucky."

"Like a lot of young ninja," he continued, "I started out full of naïve visions of heroism - vanquishing foul villains, rescuing princesses, and the like. It was tempered a bit by my experiences the night I lost my parents, but at the same time having been exposed to such raw, overpowering malevolence only reinforced the idea of a clear division between good and evil, and the battle I saw became my mental image of a heroic last stand. It was only later that the reality of what my profession truly involved sunk in. While some of our enemies really were monstrously evil, a lot of them were just desperate people doing what they felt they had to in order to survive, or shinobi just like us fighting for the sake of their own homes and loved ones. Heroic sacrifices did happen, much too frequently to be honest, but more often than not they were because the heroes in question had been ordered into that situation by their superiors, sometimes deliberately. I never lost my drive to protect the people of Konoha, but I discovered pretty quickly that I wasn't really made for the front lines; I just couldn't be as ruthless as I would need to be to really succeed."

"Anyway," Iruka returned to the topic at hand, "as soon as Professor Snape informs you that Riddle and his followers know about the circles, we can start adding names to the list of recipients. Speaking of... given the fact that he's one of the least likely members of the Order to be attacked, I don't think Severus Snape should be given an escape circle yet, nor should we tell him about them. If he knew, his cover would pretty much require him to pass that information along. I'm sure you and he can come up with a suitable excuse to give Riddle, possibly that he knows you're keeping secrets and is still trying to ferret them out for his 'master'."

"Yes," Albus said, "I believe that would be a wise course of action..."

The discussion continued for over an hour, by the end of which they had a tentative list of those people and households that would be provided with escape circles. They were sorted into a rough order of priority based primarily upon the likelihood that they'd be attacked in the near future. Iruka and Pandora would begin installing circles in those top-priority homes (including those containing S.E.N. members) within the next few days.

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**V**

As had become their custom, Iruka took Harry back to the Grangers' home from King's Cross Station. This time, however, he took several extra precautions in order to throw off attempts to follow or ambush the two of them. From Platform 9 3/4, they first traveled to Diagon Alley via Apparition (Side-Along in Harry's case, much to his dismay). The next leg of their journey was to actually return to Hogwarts from the Leaky Cauldron via Floo, emerging in the Headmaster's office. While Harry's stomach recovered and Filius checked the duo and their belongings for any sort of tracking spells, Albus sent a dozen school owls off with Portkeys to various spots in the middle of the North Sea, while Hedwig (who had remained at Hogwarts to spare her the earlier steps) took a Portkey of her own to just outside Belfast, from whence she would immediately depart to make her way back to Crawley. Unlike in the case of Harry's rescue from the Little Hangleton graveyard, these Portkeys were Ministry-authorized, explained to Fudge simply as "laying a false trail".

The Portkeys to the North Sea had been Iruka's first suggestion, since the addition of obvious false trails would make the Belfast trace seem legitimate. Then too, anyone foolish enough to try and blindly follow one of the school owls' Portkeys without checking their destination first would find themselves literally at sea, well out of sight of land and out of many wizards' Apparition range from any destination in Britain. Long robes wouldn't exactly aid in swimming, either, to say nothing of added hoods or masks.

Harry and Iruka's _actual_ route from Hogwarts involved a quick Disillusioned broom-flight to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, another Apparition (this time to Edinburgh), the application of non-magical makeup and wigs, a trip by Knight Bus to a randomly-chosen destination in London, and one last Disillusioned flight to their actual objective in Crawley while Dobby arrived to take one last Portkey back to Hogwarts. On this occasion, the eccentric elf was again wearing plaid pants, but combined with a white shirt and paisley necktie, a hideously-patterned yellow and red sweater, a cream linen jacket, and a broad-brimmed straw hat with a dark ribbon.

Given the profound indirectness of their route, it was a statement of how fast magical travel was that they arrived only half an hour behind the now-relieved Grangers. Hedwig, having farther to fly, would meet them there in a couple of days.

Overall, the hope was that the repeated back-and-forth between England and Scotland would leave pursuers uncertain about even which country their final goal was in. That, combined with the variety of travel methods and multiple false trails would hopefully throw off any attempts to track them, or at least lead such to believe that they'd lost the trail at the pair's second (apparent) return to Hogwarts.

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**V**

It was early July when Iruka accompanied several of his colleagues through the Floo in the Headmaster's office to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. His first reaction upon emerging into the Black family home was that the name was rather apt: Even with over an hour to go before sunset, very little light made its way through the filthy windows, nowhere near enough to brighten a room whose decorator had clearly been inspired heavily by the family's surname. Virtually every bit of wood in the room, from the floorboards to the cabinets to the grand piano, was stained or painted black, a shade echoed throughout much of the rest of the furnishings. What wasn't black was generally either gilt or otherwise metallic, or else so faded as to be nearly grey.

"Sorry about the decor," commented Sirius from next to the fireplace, "but clearing all the nasty Dark stuff out of the house took so long that we haven't had much time to start renovations. Remus and I are doing what we can, and Kreacher's been a lot better about getting the place properly clean again, but we've been focusing on making it safe and livable before trying to pretty it up. If... _when_ things start to get worse, we're going to need a safehouse, and there's plenty of room in here for a lot of people; the Blacks used to be a big family, after all."

"Yes," Professor Snape drawled, "mental instability clearly has its drawbacks."

"Severus," Dumbledore chided gently but with a hint of underlying steel, "Sirius has provided us with an excellent headquarters and safehouse, though I'm sure we all hope that it might not be needed in the latter role. Every member of the Order makes their own invaluable contributions, and we must all stand together if we are to weather the dark times ahead."

Sirius nodded to the Headmaster, though his clenched jaw suggested that he was biting back some kind of retort or insult towards the Potions Professor. "Meeting's in the kitchen, downstairs," he said as he led them out. The hallway was as dark and dreary as the drawing room they'd entered through, with the macabre addition of mummified house-elf heads mounted on the wall along the staircase. "Just stay quiet near the front door," he half-whispered, "there's a mad old portrait of my _dear_ mother in the entryway, and it's best not to wake her up. We've tried to move it, but it's up there with a Permanent Sticking Charm that even the cursebreakers couldn't shift, and the wall's load-bearing so we can't just rip the whole mess out either. Silencing spells won't take properly, so we're stuck just trying to keep the curtains closed and hope she stays asleep."

"Have you tried putting something more substantial in front of the portrait," Filius whispered, "a bookcase perhaps?"

"Thought about it," Sirius acknowledged, "but with the way those curtains blow out when she's screeching, I'd be worried about her tipping whatever it was over onto somebody. At least like this she's only a threat to our eardrums and sanity."

"So attach whatever you put there with a Permanent Sticking Charm of your own," Iruka responded. "Turnabout is fair play, after all."

The last Black grinned for a moment. "I'll talk to Moony."

Even the quiet conversation stopped as they passed the curtain-covered portrait frame, their soft footsteps the only sound save for a hum of conversation coming from down the hall and the occasional creak of a floorboard. Iruka thought it odd that a magically-maintained building would have creaky floors, but assumed based on Sirius's description of his family that some prior Black probably felt they added a desirable ambiance to the house. Regardless, he made sure that at least none of his steps creaked - there were _some_ benefits to decades of shinobi training, after all.

Seeing the entryway, even though it had clearly been renovated and redecorated somewhat in the intervening years, confirmed that Kreacher's memory had indeed begun in this house. The path down to the kitchen was similarly familiar.

In contrast to what they'd seen of the house thus far, the kitchen was decidedly livelier. Even faded, the deep red walls leant an overall feeling of warmth to the room, and several bright lights drove out the gloom that seemed to pervade the rest of the building. The kitchen itself was long and relatively narrow, with much of its length occupied by a table that was nearly packed with witches and wizards.

Remus was there, of course, quietly nursing a cup of tea; the next full moon was a week away, but he was already starting to show signs of stress. Molly and Arthur Weasley and their eldest two sons sat beside Xeno and Pandora, Molly glaring with what looked like envy or resentment (bordering on a full-on pout) towards the stove at which Kreacher was busily preparing food. Alastor Moody was at the heart of a cluster of Aurors, flanked by Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks. That still left a half-dozen people Iruka had never seen before, most of whom were eyeing him in mild confusion.

All conversation rapidly tapered off as Albus stepped into the room. Everyone not already seated found a chair, stool, or bench to occupy around the table, except for Professor Snape who leaned back against the wall in a corner by the door.

"Welcome," the Headmaster said, "all of you. Though it pains me that we must gather for this purpose, it still gives me hope that so many are already prepared to stand against the coming darkness. Some of those here were part of the Order during Lord Voldemort's first rise, but we also have many new faces joining us. Minerva and Filius need no introduction, I'm sure, and Severus joined in secret during the last days of the prior war, providing vital information from within the Death Eaters' ranks. Also present from Hogwarts is Professor Iruka Umino, whose assistance was essential in rescuing Harry Potter from Voldemort's clutches last month." He continued to introduce the various other new additions, then the rest of the Order in order to allow the new recruits to put names to faces for everyone. "Hagrid is still a member as well," he noted, "but could not attend this evening as he is already on an important assignment that I hope will deny Lord Voldemort one of his more dangerous potential assets."

"Thanks to young Harry," Dumbledore continued, "we have a list of those who gathered after Voldemort's resurrection. While at least some are, I believe, under DMLE surveillance," a questioning look to Moody was answered with a curt nod, "it would behoove us to track the movements of all those known or suspected to be aligned with the Death Eaters, at least to such a degree as we are able, focusing on those not already under watch..."

What followed was, to the surprise of many of the newer Order members, a meeting not at all unlike those held by Hogwarts' faculty: Much of the time was dedicated to administrative and logistical minutiae, though in this case for something far more fraught than educating children. Various Death Eaters and other parties of interest were discussed, and observers assigned. Advice was shared on ways to remain safe, and on methods for tailing someone undetected; Iruka shared quite a few tips on that topic, and on spotting tails, drawing more than a few suspicious glances.

From there, the topic moved on to the establishment of a network of safehouses and emergency caches of supplies and currency (both magical and non). While the Headmaster led this discussion, he was often relaying ideas that Iruka had shared from his own professional knowledge during a private meeting. They'd both agreed that many members of the Order would trust Albus's guidance over Iruka's, even if the full truth of the latter's martial background was revealed. Given the difficulties and limitations involved with the Fidelius Charm, very few of these safehouses and caches would receive such heavy-duty protection, especially those whose sudden disappearance during a time of ostensible peace would draw unwanted attention.

"And now," Dumbledore announced, "Alastor has some advice for all of us. I must ask you all to pay close attention to his words: Much of what he has to say will be less than pleasant, but I implore you not to ignore it. He is, after all, one of our foremost experts on remaining safe in spite of the efforts of Dark wizards."

The scarred ex-Auror rose with an acknowledging nod to the Headmaster, his prosthetic eye continuously scanning every which way for potential threats. "If any of you lot've been payin' attention, you know my motto: Constant vigilance! Death Eaters and their type aren't gonna formally invite you to a fair duel a week in advance. They're going to show up when they think your guard is down, when you'll least expect 'em, and they'll bring along their buddies like the cowards they are. So pay attention! Don't sit reading the Prophet in the middle of the Leaky - save that for when you're alone, behind wards you can trust. Always be aware of your surroundings, watch for folk actin' suspicious or just odd, and if you feel like somethin's not right, _get out of there!_ " He continued to lecture the increasingly-pale Order members on ways of spotting traps and ambushes, checking for impostors and infiltrators, and other facets of that general aspect of tradecraft.

"Be thinking about what to do if you get attacked," Moody warned, "always know where the exits are and how to get to 'em. For places you spend a lot of time, like at home, make a plan for how to get everybody out safe. Then make at least two or three more plans in case the first one goes tits up. Make sure everybody in your family knows the plans, so when the curses start flyin' they can keep their heads." His expression darkened, quite a sight on his disfigured face. "Have one more plan, for if you _can't_ get out. I've seen too bloody much of what these animals do to people if they can take 'em alive. I'll not give you all nightmares by tellin' you about it, except to say that if you can't get away, a quick death is better than anything on offer from the other side."

The room was left silent for a few moments; nobody really knew what to say to that.

"Yes, well," even the usually-eloquent Albus Dumbledore seemed a bit at a loss for words, "thank you for your insights Alastor. While not put quite as I would have, your points are indeed well-made and worth remembering. Now, to our next bit of business, Remus," he addressed the former Defense teacher, "I must ask you to reach out to your contacts in the werewolf community. Please do all that you can to persuade your fellow lycanthropes to side against Voldemort in this conflict."

"That's going to be difficult," Remus sighed. "I'm not the most well-liked among British werewolves - they resent the fact that I was permitted a Hogwarts education while they and their children are not. Even if I can get them to talk to me, I doubt many will be willing to fight for a society that largely hates, fears, and shuns us."

"Surely they can be made to understand that, however bad things might be at present, it would be far worse under Voldemort's rule?"

The werewolf shrugged. "Some already know that, Albus, but they're more likely to just go into hiding or flee the country than to risk a torturous death to defend a Ministry that treats us as dangerous subhuman beasts. Even among those that know You-Know-Who's promises are probably empty, the prospect of a regime that would let them live their lives is too tempting to ignore. At the other end, you have those like Greyback that just want any opportunity to kill or infect as many witches and wizards as possible, something that You-Know-Who would happily allow as long as he gets to decide who is and isn't targeted. In between those extremes you've got mostly a lot of scared, downtrodden, resentful people that don't much trust or like either side, to the point where many would be happiest if we and the Death Eaters wiped each other out."

"So maybe instead of aiming to get them to side with us," Iruka cut in, "you should aim more to convince them to stay clear of the fight entirely? Better to get them to stay neutral than risk driving them into the arms of our enemies."

Albus frowned slightly. "If that is the best that can be achieved, then so be it, but I fear that Lord Voldemort and his followers will not be as willing as we to accept a stance of neutrality. He will likely send an ultimatum that the werewolves of Britain are either with him or against him, one delivered and enforced by Fenrir Greyback and his cohorts."

"Such a 'with me or against me' ultimatum tends to cut both ways," Iruka countered. "Sure, it'll get you more people joining your side instead of sitting on the fence, but it also pushes some of those fence-sitters into your enemies' camp. Worse, the more-or-less-conscripts you get are only serving out of fear, which means that they're likely to undermine your efforts in whatever ways they can safely manage, and abandon you the moment they think they can get away. The distribution of new recruits isn't much different regardless of which side takes that approach, but how they view the two sides favors the one that _didn't_ try to coerce them, so letting the Death Eaters go that route rather than doing it ourselves will get us most of the same allies without the resentment."

"That's horribly callous," commented an older woman that had been introduced as Arabella Figg. "Regardless of their... _condition_ , these are people, most of whom are innocent of anything worse than the occasional petty crime of necessity. You would leave them to the depredations of Greyback and You-Know-Who?" Judging by the scowls and looks of disapproval directed Iruka's way, quite a few members of the Order agreed with her.

The chuunin leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers as his expression became grim. "We are at war," he stated implacably, "and it is a terrible fact of war that it always requires decisions to be made which will have dire consequences for certain people, and only rarely are all of those people enemy combatants. If I could keep the fighting solely between volunteers from both sides, I would, and I'm sure everyone here feels the same, but unfortunately our enemies aren't nearly as moral. We cannot save every civilian in Britain, so we need to focus our efforts on those that we _can_ save. Does anybody here truly believe that it's realistic that we'll be able to get all, or even most, of a group that's been treated so badly by Wizarding society to fight to protect that society?" He swept his eyes along the table, finding that few of those condemning him were willing to meet his gaze now. "They can't all remain neutral; Voldemort won't let them. Given those facts, what can we do to best protect people both werewolf and not?"

"We give those werewolves a viable choice," Remus said, understanding. "We tell them that even if they choose not to fight for either side, we'll do our best to protect them from the likes of Greyback and the Death Eaters. We take the moral high ground and invite them to meet us there. We welcome any help they're willing to give, but we _don't_ demand any. We leave demanding and threatening to the other side, and let the contrast speak for us."

"But _can_ we protect those people?" Shacklebolt's tone indicated that he was asking purely about the practicality, lacking any of the suspicion or disdain that even several fellow Order members had shown towards werewolves.

After much discussion, it was decided that several of the safehouses the Order was establishing would be set aside to house those werewolves that sought to stay out of the conflict and were willing to accept help in doing so. Their non-infected family members would be housed separately, as it simply wouldn't be practical to brew enough Wolfsbane Potion for so many people, especially during wartime.

"Our next agenda item," Dumbledore stated, "is the matter of Harry Potter. He is presently concealed at a secret, secure location. Those who need to know of his whereabouts have already been informed, and I would ask those who haven't to not seek him out. We who _do_ know where Mister Potter is will be checking up on him frequently," here he swept his stern gaze around the room, "but it should go without saying that we must take care not to be tracked when doing so."

"Now, Severus," the Headmaster indicated the dour potioneer, "has brought word that Lord Voldemort was quite vexed at young Harry's rescue, and has taken a particular interest in gathering more information before making any serious efforts towards another confrontation with Mister Potter. More specifically, he thinks that a prophecy recorded in the Department of Mysteries holds vital clues as to why a schoolboy has repeatedly thwarted and escaped him. While I do not believe that he will find what he seeks, there is nevertheless information within the Unspeakables' halls that is best kept out of our enemy's hands. I propose, therefore, that we set a hidden guard on the entrance to the Department of Mysteries to stop any agents sent by Voldemort if they can, or else at least raise an alarm to prevent said agents' escape..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering about the elaborate movement plan, one of the major goals was to completely confuse any trackers/pursuers as to the actual destination. Magical travel was basically required for any long-distance legs, but they were concerned that any magical means of travel aside from broom-flight would be traceable.
> 
> I realized only after finishing the original version of this chapter that the Order should have started meeting much earlier in the summer, and that I should show that given that Iruka's a member. That scene took a while to write, in part because I just kept thinking of other topics that they'd have covered and thus kept having to add onto it.
> 
> Yes, Flitwick is in the Order in this fic. After fighting in the Chamber and helping train S.E.N., he's more involved than he was in canon. Xeno and Pandora are there too because they're so closely connected with Iruka and (through him and Luna) with Harry, so if they're going to be targeted anyway they might as well join the fight. The idea of putting a bookshelf in front of Walburga Black's portrait is not mine, but I can't remember at the moment which fic I originally encountered it in.
> 
> We as the audience know that the guards on the DoM are pointless, but that's because we know about the protections on the prophecies. If Voldemort needed to break Rookwood out to ask him about that, it stands to reason that Dumbledore might not know about it either. Should the Order find out, that'll change things, but for now they're posting the guard because neither side knows that doing so is pointless.
> 
> As far as writing progress goes, I've bogged down in the final battle. There are just so many moving pieces in such a complex scenario that I've got a lot to figure out.


End file.
